IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


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Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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I 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  canadien  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


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original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
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which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


n 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


a 


n 


n 


Couverture  endommag^e 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^e  et/ou  pelliculde 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


I      I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

□    Boum 
Rali« 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
avec  d'autres  documents 


Tight  binding  may  causa  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

Lareliure  serree  peut  causer  de  I'ombra  ou  de  la 
distorsion  le  long  de  la  marge  intdrieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajout^es 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texta. 
mais,  lorsque  cela  dtait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  iti  film^es. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppldmentaires; 


L'tnstitut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire' 
qu'il  lui  a  et^  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
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une  image  reproduite.  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  m^thode  normale  de  filmage 
«ont  indiqu^s  ci-dessous. 


I      I    Coloured  pages/ 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag^es 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaurdes  et/ou  pelliculdes 


[~^    Pages  damaged/ 

I      I    Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 


r~7]    Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
uZJ    Pages  ddcolorees,  tachet^es  ou  piquees 

□    Pages  detached/ 
Pages  ddtachees 

0Showthrough/ 
Transparence 


□    Quality  of  print 
Quality  inigale 


D 


varies/ 
nigale  de  I'impression 


□    Includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplementaire 

□    Only  edition  available/ 
Seule 


Edition  disionible 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
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ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  OL^^-partiallement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t6  fiJm^es  d  nouveau  de  facon  a 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film^  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu^  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


/ 


12X 


16X 


20X 


26X 


30X 


24X 


28X 


: 


32X 


Ills 

iu 

difier 
ine 
age 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  Segibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


L'exemplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grfice  d  la 
g^n^rositd  de: 

Bibliothdque  nationale  du  Canada 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettetd  de  l'exemplaire  f.lmd,  et  en 
conformit6  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  coi^tain  the  symbo!  —^'  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED ").  or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Les  exempia.res  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimde  sont  film6s  en  commen9ant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmds  en  commen^ant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaftra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbols  y  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method  : 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
film6s  4  des  taux  de  reduction  diff^rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichd,  il  est  film6  d  partir 
de  Tangle  sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n6cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


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JHMiiMlMiliillMliMlii 


A  NAKRATIVE 


1^^         //^rOF  THE  LIFE  OF 


Wh6  was  taken  by  the  Indians,  in  the  year  1T5$«/  - 

when  only  about  twelve  years  of  age,  and 
' ,'  '         has  continued  to  reside  amongst 
C-:  t^     i.      ; '3   them  to  the  present  time,  ^;   ^ 


'I'^t'' 


W;  :-,.-:^>ii;^.' 


CONTAIKINa 

An  Account  of  the  Murder  of  her  Father  and  his 

Family ;  her  sufferings ;  her  marriage  to  two  Ihdians ; 

her  troubles  with  her  Children;   barbariti^  of  the 
.    Indians  in  the  French  and  Revolutionary  Wars ;  the 

life  of  her  last  Husband,  &c. ;  and  many  Historical 

Facts  never  before  published. 
CarefuUy  taken  fnm  her  own  word$9  JVov*  S9tbt  18£3« 


:-^, 


.>u«.  ■Vj' 


^^>  Wf;f  K':TO  WHICH  IS  A0DEP, 

An  Appendix,  containing  an  account  of  the  trs^^y 

r^,    *  at  the  DeviPs  Hole,  in  176^  and  of  Sullivan's  S^X- 

1^  %^  pedition ;  the  Traditions,  Manners,  Customs^  &tc.  6f 

the  Indiafis,  as  believed  and  practised  at  the  l^resent 

day,  and  since  Mrs.  Jamison's  vpaptivity ;  Ptgether 

^ .  -with  some  Anecdotes,  and  other  entertaining  matter. 


^  /       '''jTV  ,7'"  '•/"'-.■••t 


'•^'i!'  '^  ^1%^  JAMES  E.  SEAV: 


^ 


CANAJSTDJUGUA: 


PJPINTED  BY  J.  D.  BEMir  Ai^b  CO. 


:i824. 


^■■' 


\*^* 


<■  t 


'■•'  \ 


■'•■■J  J'-'  ■,>■»■ 


JSTmihem  District  of  Mw-York,  to  wiii 

B^  IT  REMEMBERED,  That  on  the  eighth   day    of  f  J^^^^ 

May,  m  the  forty-eighth  year  of  the  Independence  of  the  >>■ ;  f^v'i^ 

United  States  of  America,  A.  D.  1824,  James  D.  "i^M. 

Bkmis,  of  the  said  District,    has  deposited  in   thi»  <'^.. 

(l.s.)  Office  the  title  of  a  Book  the  rig^ht  wuereof  he  claims  7;4' 

as  Proprietor, in  the  words  following",  to  wit :    ., ;. ;,  '•(' 

"  A  Narrative  of  the  Life  of  Mrs.  Mary  Jemisbh,  ^' 


M. 


m 


>^-\^tv.  >■: 


-  'ft-  i 

•wr,       .  .  J 

who  was  taken  by  the  Indians,  in  the  year  1756,  when  only  J?/^  /'^ 
about  twelve  years  of  age,  and  haS'^l^ntinued  to  reside  ^^'S  '  * 
amongst  thcui  to  the  present  time ;   containing  an  account  4 
of  the  Murder  of  her  Father  and  his  Famify^   her  Suffer- 
ings ;  her  Marriage  to  two  Indians  ;   her  Troubles  with  her 
Children;  barbarities  of  the  Indians  in  the  French  and  Re- 
volutionary Wars  ;  the  LifV  of  her  last  Husband,  &€.  and 
many  Historifcal  Facts  never  before  published.     Carefully 
l^ken  fro^  her  own  words,  Nov.  29th,  1823.    To  which  is 
ded  an  Appendix,  containing  an  account  of  the  Tragedy 
t  the  Devil's  Hole,  in  1763,  and  of  SuUtvttn*s  Expisdilioo ;. 
Traditions,  Manners,  Customs,  &c.  of  the  Indians,  as 
lieved  and  practised  at  the  present  day,  and  since.  Mrs. 
ison's  captivity;    together  with  somigi^,,ftfMcdote^  and 
her  entertaining  matter.     By  James  £,  %^  |{;.'* 


Mt 


^he 


thoiii  ai^  proprietors  of  such  copies,  dwi^^g  the  times 
rein  mentioned ;"  and  also,  to  the  act  entitled,  "An  act 
pplementary  to  an  act  entitled  ^An  act  for ^e  encourage- 
ent  of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  Mletps,  Charts, 
«nd  Books,  to  the  luithors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies, 
4ttring  the  times  thefeijB  mentioned,'  and  extendis^g  the  ben 


c^ts  thereof  to  the 
hii^ical  and 


^Designing,  Engraving  and  Etch 
""'ints."  -  'v.:   * 

;  LANSING,  Clerk  of  the     '^ 
Mrthern  Di$trict  of  JNjCtO'York. 


■:  f 


■.'#^i*' 


c 


^ 


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i^V^^ 


:.^^3r.V^^^.. 


:v?. 


Mym^^' 


■•;    \ 


>€ 


r''i«.'' 


>•  A  ^  ■ 


'..  »»•. 


PREFACE. 


?■ 


THAT  to  biographical  wtitings  we  are  indebted  for 
the  greatest  and  best  field  in  iM^ich  to  .study  mankind, 
or  human  nature,  is  a  fapt'>#u]y  appreciated  by  a  well* 
informed  community,    t^  we  can  trace  the  ef* 

.  fects  of  mental  operftions  to  their  proper  sources;  anii 
by  comparing  oi|c  own  composition  with  that  of  those 
who  have  ex^^d  in  virtue,  or  with  that  of  those  who 
have  l^een  «|}nk  in  the  lowest  depths  of  folly  and  vice, 
we  are  eoiiiilad  tQ  select  ^  plan  of  life  that  will^  least 
afford  self-satisfaction,  and  guide  us  thr.ough  the  world 
in  paths  of  morality.  -     ' 

Withool  %  knowledge  of  the  lives  of  the  vile  and 
abandoned,  we  should  be  wholly  incompetent  to  set 
an  approp^ate  value  upon  the  charms,  the  excellence 
and  the  w<Mh  of  t^ '^se  principles  which  have  produced 
the  finest  traits  i*^   he  character  of  the  most  virtuous. 

Biography  is  a  .alescope  of  life,  through  whuii  w$ 
can  see  the  extremes  atid  excesses  of  the' varied  proper« 
ties  of  the  huma-  heart.  Wisdom  and  folly,  refine* 
ment  and  vulgarity,  love  and  hatred^  tenderness  and 
cruelty,  happiness  and  misery,  piety  and  infidelity,  com- 
mingled with  every  other  cardinal  virtue  or  vice,  are  to 
be  seen  on  the  variegated  pJiges  of  the  history  of  hu- 
man evjents,  and  are  eminently  deserving  the  attention 
.  of  those  who  would  learn  to  walk  1%  tbe  **  paths  of 
"l^eac©*"  ,^' 

4. iThe  brazen  stafue  and  the  sculptttfld  marble^  can 
Commemorate  the  greatness  of  heroes,  statesmen,  pht« 
losophers,  and  blood-stained  conqueror^,  who  have  risen 
t6  the  zenith  of  human  glory  and  popularity,  under 
the  inflqencc  of  the  mild  sun  of  prosperity;  but  it  is 


v^ 


IV 


PREFACEvi  : 


the  faithfql  page  of  biography  that  transmits  to  future 
generations  the  poverty,  pain,  wrong,  hunger,  wretch- 
edness and  tornient,  and  every  nameless  misery  that 
has  been  endured  by  those  who  have  lived  in  obscurity, 
and  groped  their  lonely  way  through  a  Jong  series  of 
unpropltious  events,  with  but  little  help  besides  the 
light  of  nature.  While  the  gilded  monument  displays 
in  brightest  colors  the  vanity  of  pomp,  and  the  empti* 
ness  of  nominal  greatness^  the  biographical  page,  that 
lives  in  every  line,  is  giving' l«ssons  of  fortitude  in  time 
of  danger,  patience  in  suffering  hope  in  distress,  in- 
vention in  necessity,  and  resi'gtMion  to  unavoidable 
evils.  H^re  also  may  be  learned,  pily  for  the  bereaved, 
benevolence  for  the  destitute,  and  compassioni  for  the 
helpless ;  and  at  the  same  time  all  the  sympathies  of 
the  soul  will  be  naturally  excited  to  sigh  attlie  unfa- 
voiable  result,  Qt  to  smile  at  the  fortunate  relief. 

In  the  great  inexplicable  chain  which  forms  the  cir- 
cle of  human  events,  each  individual  lii^k  is  placed  on 
a  level  with  the  others,  and  performs  nn  equal  task ; 
but,  as  the  world  is  partial,  it  is  the  situation  that  at- 
tracts the  attention  of  mankind,  and  excites  the  unfor- 
tunate vociferous  eclat ,  of  elevation,  that  raises  the 
pampered  parasite  to  such  an  immense  height  in  the 
scale  of  personal  vanity,  as,  generally,  to  deprive  him 
of  respect,  before  he  can  return  to  a  state  of  equilibrium 
with  his  fellows,  or  to  the  place  whence  he  started. 

Few  great  men  have  passed  from  the  stage  of  action, 
who  have  not  left  in  die  history  of  their  lives  ir>delible 
marks  of  ambition  or  folly,  which  produced  insur- 
mountable reverses,  and  rendered  the  whole  a  mere 
caricature,  that  jAn  be  examined  only  with  disgust  and 
rpgret.  Such  jPetures,  however,  are  profitable,  for  "  by 
others'  faults  wise  men  correct  their  own."  -'^I'i-^ 

The  following  is  a  piece  of  biography,  that  shows 
what  changes  meky  be  effected  in  the  animal  and  mental 
constitution  of  man;  what  trials  may  be  surmounted ; 
what  cruelties  perpetrated,  and  what  pain  endured, 


^^^^v 


VM'    ^.y^ 


)'     ..'^. 


i^a^iBiiM|||l|ijigi^ 


T7:wv"^n^        »r^  F^VA  fr 


•^ 


PREFACE. 


when  stern  necessity  holds  the  reins,  and  drives  the  car 
of  fate. 

As  books  of  ithis  kind  are  sought  and  read  with  avid-  ' 
ityy  especially  by  children,  and  are  well  calculated 
to  excite  their  attention,  inform  the^r  understanding, 
and  improve  them  in  the  art  of  raiding,  the  greatest 
care  has  been  observed  to  render  the  style  easy,  the 
language  comprehensive,  and  the  description  natural. 
Prolixity  has  been  studiously  avoided.  The  line  of 
distinction  between  virtue  aaid  vice  has  been  rendered 
distinctly  visible;  and  chastity  of  expression  and  sen- 
timent have  received  dliieiittention.  Strict  fidelity  has 
been  observed  in' th#  "imposition :  consequently,  ho 
circumstance  has  been  intentionally  exaggerated  by 
the  paimings of  fancy,  nor  by  fine  flashes  of  rhetoric: 
neither  has  the  picture  been  rendered  more  dull  than 
the  original.  Without  the  aid  of  fiction^  what  was  re- 
ceived as  matter  of  fact,  only  has  been  recorded. 

I*  will. be  observed  that  the  subject  of  this  narrative 
has  arrived  at  least  to  the  advanced  age  of  eighty  years ; 
th  t  she  is  destitute  of  education  ;  and  that  her  journey 
of  life,  throughout  its  texture,  has  been  interwoven 
with  troubles,  which  ordinarily  are  calculated  to  impair 
ihe  faculties  of  the'llQind  ;  and  it  will  be  remembered, 
that  there  are  but  fe\ir- old  people  who  can  recollect  with 
precision  the  circumstances  of  their  lives,  (particularly 
those  circumstances  which  transpired  after  middle  age|) 
If,  therefore,  aiiy  enor  shlll  be  discovered  iri  the  nar- 
ration in  respect  to  time,  it  wtH  be  overlooked  by  the 
kind  reader,  or  charitably  placed  to  the  narratpr's  ac- 
count, and  not  imputed  to  neglect,  or  to  the  want  of 
attention  in  the  compiler. 

The  appendix  is  principally  taken  iVcih  the  words  of 
Mrs.  Jemison's  statements.  Those  |^rts  which  r^e^^e 
not  derived  f|ora  her,  are  deserving  equal  credit,  hav|a{{ 
been  obtained  from  authentic  sources. 

For  the  accommodation  of  the  reader,  the  work  has 
been  divided  into  chapters,  and  a  copious  table  of  Cbft- 

AS 


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Miiifil 


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VI 


PREFACE. 


f 


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fA 


tents  affixed.  The  introduotion  will  facilitate  tl^e  un- 
derstanding of  what  follows  ;  and  as  it  contains  matter 
that  could  not  be  inserted  with  propriety  in  any  other 
plaee,  will  be  read  with  interest  and  satisfaction. 

Having  finished  my  undertaking,  the  subsequent 
pages  are  cheerfully  submitted  to  the  perusal  and  ap- 
probation or  animldversion  of  a  candid,  generous  and 
indulgent  public.  At  the  same  time  it  is  fondly  hoped 
that  the  lessons  of  diftress  that  are  pourtrayed,  may 
liave  a  direct  tendency  to  increase  our  love  of  liberty ; 
to  enlarge  our  views  of  tbfLV  blessings  that  are  derived 
from  our  liberal  institutions;  and  to  excite  in  our  breasts 
aentiments  of  devotion  and  gratitude  to  the  great  Au- 
thor and  Anisher  of  our  happiness^ 

^;?:;THE  AUTHOR. 

Pembroktf  March  1,  1824^^ 


v.^-iv--;;^ 


;,  r 


"f-' 


^•- 


:^*  ■>•*;. 


i^:  .'■ 


5.  ■fir'"' 


1  p : 


.*^  INTRODUCTION. 


;i>.> 


fcjwi./  ; 


)'»■• 


i# 


Kf:^ 


THE  Peace  of  1783,  and  tfie  consequent  cessa- 
tion of  Indian  hostilities  and  barbarities, 'returned 
to  their  friends  those  prisoners,  who  had  escaped 
the  tomahawk,  the  gatintlet,  and  the  savage  ^re^ 
after  their  havii^f  #|ient  many  years  in  captivity, 
and  restored  harmony  to  society. 

The  stories  of  Indian  cruelties  which  were  com- 
mon in  the  new  settlements,  and  Were  calamitous 
realities  previous  to  that  propitious  event ;  slum- 
bered in  the  minds  that  had  beefi  constantly  agi- 
tated by  them,  and  were  only  roused  occasionally, 
to  become  the  fearful  topic  of  the  fireside. 

It  is  presumed  that  at  this  time  there  are  but 
few  native  Americans  that  have  arrived  to  middle 
age,  who  cannot  distinctly  recollect  of  sitting  in 
the  chimney  corner  when  children,  all  contracted 
with  fear,  and  there  listening  to  their  parents  or 
visitors,  while  ihey  related  stories  of  Indian  con- 
quests, and  murders,  that  would  make  their  fiaxen 
hair  nearly  stand  erect,  and  almost  destroy  the 
power  of  motion. 

(^i*^^ At  the  close  of  the  Revolutionary  war;  all  that 
part  of  the  State  of  New-York  that  lies  west  of  Uti- 
ca  was  uninliabited  by  white  people,  and  few  in- 
deedg had  ever  passed  beyond  Fort  Stan wtx,  ex- 
cept %mi  engaged  in  wai*  against  the  Indians,  who 
were  immerous,  and  occupied  a  number  of  large 
towmi  between  the  Mohawk  river  and  lake  Erie. 


i':.  ■\ry;i$': 


;v 


b 


viii  INTRODUCTION.'^ 

Sometime  ettipsed  after  this  event,  before  the  coun- 
try about  the  takes  and  on  the  Genesee  river  was 
visited,  save  by  an  occasional  land  speculator,  or 
by  defaulters  who  wished  by  retreating  to  what  in 
those  days  was  deemed  almost  the  end  of  theearth| 
to  escape  the  force  of  civil  law.  .  ;*  fv  v  ;>  -y- 

At  length)  the  richness  and  fertility  of  tbe  soil ' 
excited  emigration,  and  here  and   there  a  family 
settled  down  and  commenced  improvements  in  the 
country  which  had  recently  been  the  property  of 
the  aborigines.     Those  who  settled  near  the  Gen- 
esee river,  soon  became  acquainted  with  "The 
White  Woman,"  as  Mrs.  Jemison  is  called,  whosQ>y 
history  they  anxiously  sought,  both  as  a  matter  of 
interest  and  curiosity.     Frankness  characterized 
her  conduct,  nnd  without  reserve  she  would  readi- 
ly giiatify  them  by  relating  some  of  tlie  mof  *  im^iit; 
portant  periods  of  her  life.      t*^?;;^-*.^  p 

Although  her  bosom  companion  was  an  ancient 
Indian  warrior,  and  notwithstanding  her  children 
and  associates  were  all  Indians,  yec  it  was  found 
that  she  possessed  an  uncommon  share  of  hospital**^ 
ity,  and  that  her  fiiendship  wUs  well  worth  court-i' 
ing  and  preserving.     Her  house*was  tlie  stranger's 
home ;  from  her  table  the  hungry   were  relVeslw 
ed  ; — she  made  the  naked  As  comfortable  as .  her' 
means  would  admit  of;  and  in  all  her  actions^  dis. 
covered  so  much  nm^t^l  goodness  ol*  heart,  thuv 
Iter  admirers  increased  in  proportion  |o  the  ^xtetH. 
sion  of  hei^  acquaintance,  and  she  becftivie  celebra^ 
ted  as  the  friend  of  the  distressed.    Sl^|ig»the 
protectress  of  the  homeless  fugitive, 
welcome  the  weary  wanderer,^,  flany  stll  live  to. 
commemorate    herlJbenevoledce  towards    them, 


4 


•l^'toilVl"!**'"'' 


■  ^■^ 


INTRODUCTION. 


-r.^'^ 


ix 


when  prisoners  during  the  war,  and  to  ascribe  their 
deliverance  to  the  mediation  of  '<  The  White  Wo- 
man.^' ^ 

The  settlements  increased,  and  the  whole  coun- 
try around  her  was  inhabited  bjF  a  rich  and  retpect- 
able  people,  principally  from  New-England,  as 
much  distinguished  for  theit  spirit  of  inqiiisitive- 
ness  as  for  their  habits  of  industry  and  honesty, 
V.  ho  had  all  heard  fVom  one  source  and  another  a 
part  of  her  life  in  dltached  pieces,  and  had  ob- 
tained an  idea  thi^tht  hole  taken  in  connection 
would  afford  instructiori  and  amusement. 

Many  gentlemer  >f  f  "'spectabilUy,  felt  anxious" 
that  her  narrative  migh:  b^  laid  before  the  public, 
with  a  v'-ew  not  on' ;  to  perpetuate  the  remem- 
brance of  the  atrocities  of  thti  savages  in  former 
times,  but  to  preserve  some  hi<<torical  facts  which 
they  supposed  to  he  intimately  connected  with  her 
life,  and  which  otherwise  must  be  lost. 

Forty  years  had  passed  since  the  close  of  the 
Revolutionary  war,  and  almost  seventy  years  had 
seen  Mrs.  Jemison  with  the  Indians,  ^vi^hen  Daniel 
W.  Banister,  Esq,  at  the  instance  of  lei^eral  gen- 
tlemen, and  prompted  by  his  own  ambitioi^  to  add 
something  to  the  accumulating  fund  of  useful 
knowledge,  resolved,  in  the  autumn  of  1 823,  *o  em* 
brace  jlil  time,  while  she  was  capable  of  recoliect- 
iiting  the  scenes  through  which  she  had 
collect  from  herself,  and  to  publish  to 
an  accurate  account  <lf  her  life.  ^ 
iployed  to  collect  the  materials,?  i(nd 
ffie  work  for  the  press;  and  accordingly 
went  to  the  house  oi'  Mrs.  Jennet  Whaley  m^fe 
towii^rjgastiie,^  Qenesee  co.  N.  Y.  in  coi^pntiy^ 


■s* 


mmmm 


"s- 


H 


INTRODUCTION. 


■•"iSf- 


1  ,   :«« 


with  the  publisher,  who  procured  the  interesting 
iHi bject  of  the  following  narrative,  to  come  to  that 
place  (a  distance  of  four  miles)  and  there  repeat 
the  story  of  her  eventful  life.  She  came  on  foot 
in  company  with  BIr.  Thomas  Clute,  whom  she 
considers  her  protei^r,  and  tarried  almost  three 
days,  which  time  waslmsily  occupied  in  taking  a 
sketch  of  her  narrative  «»  she  recited  it.  ■M^'^^d^' 
^'  Her  appearance  was  well  calculated  to  excite  a 
great  degree  of  sympathy  in  a  stranger,  who  had 
been  partially  informed  of  her  «dgtn,  when  com- 
paring her  present  situation  with  what  it  probably 
Would  have  been,  had  she  been  permittea  to  have 
remained  with  her  friends,  and  to  have  eiij6yed 
the  blessings  of  civilization.  sA'i^#'««#^^^^^^^^^^ 

|n  stature  she  is  very  short,  and  considera- 
bly under  the  middle  size,  and  stands  tolerably 
erect,  with  her  head  bent  forward,  apparently  from 
her  having  for  a  long  time  been  accustomed  to 
carrying  heavy  burdens  in  a  strap  placed  across 
her  forehead.  Her  complexion  is  very  white  for  a 
woman  of  her  age,  and  although  ihe  wrinkles  of 
foursc3re  years  are  deeply  indented  in  her  cheeks, 
yet  the^<br|tnson  of  youth  is  distinctly  visible.  Her 
eyes  are  light  blue,  a  little  faded  by  age,  and  nat- 
urally brilliant  and  sparkling.  Her  sight  is  quite 
dim,  though  she  is  able  to  perform  her  n^^sary 
labor  without  the  assistance  of  glasses.  Her  cheek 
bones  are  high,  and  rather  prominent,  and  her 
front  teeth,  in  the  lower  jaw,  are  sound  a^p|lN»d, 
When  she  looks  up  and  is  engaged  in  coHl^pitton 
her  countenance  is  very  expressive ;  but  frohi  her 
long  residence  with  the  Indians,  she  has  acquired 
the  habit  of  peeping  from  under  eye-brows  as  they 


:  :v,>' 


'.':i: 


.•■.,...  y 


^4.-: 


>^'4- 


.V-*  •I'JJV 


y^  S'  ■ 


Itson 

her 

ired 

hey 


INTRODUCTION. 


XI 

do  with  the  head  inclined  downwards.    Fbrmefly^' 
her  hair  was  of  a  light  chesnut  brown-^it  is  now 
quite  grey,  a  little  curled,  of  middling  length  and 
tied  in  a  bunch  behind.    She  infowned  me  that 
she  had  never  worn  a  cap  nor  «  con:b. 

She  speaks  English  plainly  and  distinctly,  with 
a  little  of  the  •  Irish  emphasis^  and  has  th«  use  of 
words  so  well  as  to  render  herself  intellip;ible  on 
any  subject  with  whicli  she  is  acquainted.  Her 
recollection  and  mettiory  exceeded  my  expecta% 
tioa.  It  cannot  be  reasonably  supposed,  that  iet 
person  of  her  a^  has  kept  the  Events  of  seventy 
year^  in  so  complete  a  chain  as  to  be  able  to  as^; 
sign  to  each  its  proper  time  and  place ;  she,  howii^'  ■ 
ever,  made  her  recital  with  as  few  obvious  mistakes' 
as  4nifht  be  found  in  that  of  a  person  of  fifty.   ^  ^  :, 

She  walks  with  a  quick  step  without  a  staff,  ana 
I  was  informed  by  Mr.  Glute,  that  she  could  yet 
Cross  a  stream  on  a  log  or  pole  as  steadily  as  any 
other  person.  ■i|-fM:v'-^vs*v."^-^';v-;/'-'-4:W?r 

Her  passions  are  easily  excited.  At  a  number 
of  periods  in  her  narration,  tears  trickled  down  her 
grief  worn  cheek,  and  at  the  same  time  a  rising 
sigh  would  stop  hfcr  utterance.  ...  .^^^.z^v- 
Industry  is  a  virtue  wbjch  she  has  uniformly 
practised  from  the  day  of  her.  adoption  to  the 
present.  She  pounds  her  samp^  <;o9ks  for  herself, 
gathers  and  chops  wood,  feeds  her  cattle  and  poul^- 
try,  and  performs  other  laborious  services.  Last 
season  i^he  planted,  tended  and  gathered  corn-rin 
shorty  she  is  always  busy.  *,  v*< 

Her  dsess  at  the  time  I  saw  her,  wk»  made  and 
worn  after  the  Indian  fashion,  and  consisted  of  a 
shirt|  short  gown,  petticoat,  stockings,  moccasins, 


mmi^ 


_^ 


rr 


■  -i 


m 


:t*. 


-,■*«"-: 


Xll 


INTRODUCTION. 


'•'"  'wl 


yl 


a  blanket  and  a  bonnet.    The  shirt  was  of  cotton 
and  made  at  the  top,  as  I  was  informed,  like  a 
man's  without  collar  or  sleeves — was  open  before 
and  extended  .down  about  midway  of  the  hips.-r- 
The  petticoat  was  a  piece  of  broadcloth  with  the 
list  at  the  top  and  bottom  and  the  ends  sewed  to* 
gether.     This  was  tied  on  by  a  string  that  was 
passed  over  it  and  around  the  waist,  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  to  let  the  b<,  ttom  of  the  petticoat  down  half 
way  between  the  knee  and  «iiide  and  leave  one- 
fourth  of  a  yard  at  the  top  to  be  turned  down  over 
the  string — the  bottom  of  the  shirt  coming  a  little 
below,  and  on  the  outside  of  the  top  #f  ^e  foMI  so 
as  to  leave  v'he  list  and  two  or  three  inches  of  the 
cloth  uncoveredt    The  stockings,  were  of  blue 
broadcloth,  tied,  or  pinned  on,  which  reached  from 
the  knees,  into  the  mouth  of  the  moccasins. — 
Around  her  toes  only  she  had  some  rags,  and  over 
these  her  buckskin  moccasins.     Her  gown  was  of 
undicssed  flannel,  colored  brown.     It  was  made  in 
old  yankee  style,  with  long  sleeves,  covered  the 
top  of  the  hips,  aiid  was  tied  before  in  two  places 
with  strings  of  deer  skin.     Over  all  this,  she  wore 
an  Indian  blanket.    On  her  head  she  wore  a  piece 
of  old  brown  woollen  cbih  made  soht^wiiat  like  a 
sun  bonnet,  v^^il:    , 

Such  was  the  dress  that  this  woman  was  content- 
ed to  wear,  and  habit  had  rendered  it  convenient 
and  comfortable.  She  wore  it  not  as  a  matter  of 
necessity,  but  from  choice,  for  it  will  be  seen  in  the 
sequel,  that  her  property  is  sufficient  to  enable  her 
to  dress  in  the  best  fashion,  and  to  allow  her  every 
comfort  of  life,  jrvv/iis  :#i^' 

Her  house,  in  which  she  liyqs,  is  20  by  28  feet  5 


^i.-Ax, 


:i 


'•4;,  ■•'"•*'. 


.M 


t  t; 


rr.^ 


■  r-}'.^:W^^' 


xia 


'       INIJIO.DUCTION 

built  of  square  timber,  with  a  shingled  roof,  ancTa 
framed  stoop.  In  the  centre  of  the  house  is  ai 
chimney  of  stones  and  sticks,  in  which  there  are 
two  fire  places.  She  has  a  good  framed  bairn,  26 
by  36,  well  filled,  and  owns  a  fiiie  stock  of  cattle^ 
and  hprses.  Besides  the  buildings  above  mention^ 
ed,  she  owns  a  number  of  houses  that  are  occupied 
by  tenants,  who  work  b^irflots  upon  shares. 

Her  dwelling,  is  about  one  hundred  rods  nortlj 
of  the  Great  Slide,  a  curiosity  that  will  be  describeq|j^v; 
in  its  proper  pla^e»  on  the  west  side  of  the  Gene- 
see river*  ^^'\ '■■'--■' ■'^-'■j^'         ■'<'^-- 

Mrs.  Jemison,  appeared  sensible  pf  her  igno- 
rance of  the  manners  of  the  white  people,  and  for 
that  reason,  was  not  familiar,  except  with  thos^Ci 
with  whom  she  was  intimately  acquainted.  Ix^ 
[fact  she  was  Tto  appearance)  so  jealous  of  her 
rights,or  that  sne  should  say  something  that  would     < 

injurious  to  herself  or  family,  that  if  Mr.  Clute 
fhad  not  been  present,  we  should  have  been  iinable 
I  to  have  obtained  her  history.     She,  however,  soon 
I  became  free  and  unembarrassed  in  her  conversa- 
tion, and  spoke  with  ^  degree  of  mildness,  candor 
and  simplicity,  that  is  cdculated  to  reniove  all 
doubts  as  to  the  veracity  %(  the  speaker.     If  he 
vices  of  the  Indians,  she  ap^peared  disposed  not  to 
aggravate,  and  seemed  to  take  pride  in  extol ing 
their  virtues.     A  kind  of  family  pride  inclined  her 
to  withhold  whajever  would  blot  the  character  of 
her  descendants,  and  perhaps  induced  her  to  ke^p 
hack  many  things  that  would  have  been  interest 
ing. 

For  t)|ie  life  of  her  last  husband,  we  are  indebted 
to  her  cousin^  Mr.  George  Jemison,  to  whom  she 


ij 


■^,-;mJ:C;^ 


ra  u  !  ,     iipn.ni, 


fiP 


■P 


»>'c'  f^' 


■ 


.:V*^^ 


'  'I- 


'h 


hJ 


XIV 


£*«?v  ■•  r.^ 


INTRODUCTION. 


c 


referred  us  ^r  ififormation  on  that  sul^ject  gener* 
ally.  The  thdi|ghts  of  his  deeds,  probably  chilled 
her  old  heart,  ti^  made  her  dread  to  rehearse 
them,  and  at  tne  same  time  she  well  knew  they 
were  no  secret,  for  she  had  frequently  heard  him 
relate  the  whole,  n<^  only  to  her  cousin,  but  to 

otners.  -^^^ij'^.r.'^i^:^  .- 

Before  she  left  us  she  was  very  sociabfl,  aria  she 
resumed  her  naturally  pleaimt  countenance,  en- 
livened with  a  smile.  w\  ^^  ^^ 

Her  neighbors  speak  of  her  ai  liossessing  one  of 
the  happiest ^  tempers  and  dispositions,  and  give 
her  the  name  of  never  having  done  a  ceQ$uraye 
act  to  their  knowledge^^  w  .^  .^^^ 
4  Her  habits,  are  those  oftne  inaians-*she  sleeps 
On  tkins  without  a  bedstead,  sits  upon  the  floor  or 
6n  %  bench,  and  hdlds  her  victuals  on  her  lap,  or 
in  her  hands.  ^ 

Her  ideas  of  religion,  correspond  in  every,  res- 
pect with  those  of  the  great  mass  of  tlie  Senecas. 
She  applauds  virtue,  and  despises  vice.  She  be- 
lieves in  a  future  state,  in  which  the  good  will  be 
happy,  and  the  bad  miserable ;  and  that  the  ac- 
quisition of  that  happiness,  depends  primarily 
upon  human  volition^  and  the  consequent  good 
deeds  of  the  happy  recipient  of  blessedness.  The 
doctrines  taught  in  the  Christian  religion,  sne  iS  a 
stranger  to. 

Her  daughters  are  said  to  be  active  and  enter- 
^  rising  women,  acd  her  grandsons,  who  arrived  to 
^anhpod,  are  considered  able,  decent  and  respect- 
able men  in  tl^ir  tribe. 

Having  in  this  cursory  manner,  introduced  the 
subject  of  the  following  pages,  1  proceed  to  the 


.'    »N- 


sae  19  a 


■:^ 


INTRODUCTrON. 


XV 


narration  of  a  life  that  has  been  viewed  with  at- 
tention, for  a  great  number  of  years  by  a  few,  and 
which  will  be  read  by  the  pub)io%ith  the  mixed 
sensations  of  pleasure  and  paitii,  and  with  interest^ 
anxiety  and  satisfaction. 


AV '*'•-• 


^■-^m-i 


-i> 


'\«,- 


■  '^:- 


'■■t>v 


'« 


,||^^?^r?^. 


'% 


'mk^ 


^'^-K.    *'-^. 


:;:--\^%i(«^-... 


■>!^i><^f"^f  *-'*'>:■'; 


s'-    -V,?' 


mimmtmmm^m^ 


'4!' 


>»-5f.4«t 


1 


i 


^S'f 


m 


I      i. 


« 


■  'y-t 


'-",. 


M 


SS.' 


LIFE 


OF 


siAmT  9ii[ii^^sr 


<^ 


;*■' 


i 


CHAPTER  T. 

fativity  of  her  Parents. — ^Their  removal  to  America.— 
Her  Birth.— Parents  settle  in  "peniisylvania. — Omen 
of  her  Captivity. 

ALTHOUGH  I  may  have  JVeqtiently  hiiard^e 
istory  of  my  ancestry,  my  recollection  is  too^  ifei- 

srfect  to  en^bte  me  to  trace  it  further  hack  than 

my  father  dnd  mother,  whom  I  have  often  heard 

lention  the  families  from  whence  they  originated, 

Is  having  possessed  wealth  and  honorable  stations 

[nder  the  government  of  the  country  in  which 

ley  resided. 

On  the  account  of  the  great  length  of  time  that 
las  elapsed  since  I  was  separated  from  my  parents 
md  friends,  and  having  iieard  t^  story  of  their 
lativitv  only  in  the  days  ol  no^.^Idhood,  lam 
lot  able  to  state  positively,  li^ph  of  the  two  coun- 

ies,  Ireland  or  Scotland,  wa^  tn«^4and  bf  my  parents^ 
lirth  and  education.  It,howevei^,t^i^y  impression^ 
th^  Ihey  were  bom  and  brought  npm  Ireland. 

B2 


r"  'h^: 


P'*'Vii»f" 


'm 


m^ 


18 


LIFE  OF 


'I 

t  "1 


r  ■  II." 


^■s-  if 


My  Father's  name  was  Thor^as  J'emisbn^  and| 
my  mother's^  before  her  marriage  with  him,  wi 
Jane  Erwin^Their  affection  for  each  other  m 
mutuai^and  df  l^at  happy  kind  ivhich  tends  direct 
ly  to  sweeten  t||e  cup  ^4^;  to  render  connubial! 
sorrows  lighter  ;td  assuage  every  discontentment;! 
and  to  promote  n^t  only  their  own  comfort,  but| 
that  of  alt  who  cdme  within  the  circle  of  tlieii 
acquaiilitance.    Of  thehr  jM^ppiness  I  recollect  tc 
have  heard  them  speak  f/^iwiid  the  remembrance  ' 
yet  retain  of  their  mildness  aid  perfect  agreement] 
in  the  government  of  their  ch^di^n,  together  witJ 
their  mutual  attention  to  our  comfmon  education] 
manners,  religious  instruction  and  wants,  renders  id 
a  fact  in  my  mind,  that  they  were  ornaments  to 
» the  married  state,  and  examples  of  connubial  Jdvej 
worthy  of  imitation.     After  my  remerabrainci 
they  were  strict^^bservers  of  religious  duties ;  foil 
itwasj^ie  daily  practice  of  iay  father,  morninj 
and  evening,  to  attend,  in  his  family^  to  tlie  wor] 
ship  of  God. 

Resolved  to  leave  the  land  of  their  nativit)! 
they  removed  from  their  residence  to  a  port  ii 
Ireland,  wiiere  they  lived  /bpt  a  short  time  befoxi 
they  set  sail  for  this  country,  in  the  year  1742  or  3J 
on  board  the  ship  Mary  William,  bound  to  Phih 
delphia,  in  the  state  of  Pennsylvania. 

The  intestine  divisions,  civil  Wialrs,  and  ecclesiai 
tical    rigidity  and  dotti in ation  that  prev^iiled 
those  days,  were  tb^e  clauses  of  their  leaving 
mother  country^  mip?V>d  a  hoine  in  the  America^ 
wilderness,  ondejPie  niild  and[  temperate  goy4 
ment  of  the  dgicfendants  of  Wllfiana  ?mni  whei 
without  fed^ttifl'  might  wonSiip  God^ 
form  tieir  ifid  avocations. 


T  <  • 


MARY  J£MIB05« 


19 


itentment: 


In  Europe  my  parents  had. tivvi  sons  and  one 
daughter^  whose  names  were  S^n^  Thomas  and 
Betsey ;  with  whom,  after  ha3M||>at  their  ^ects 
mi  board,  they  temharked,  km|^  a  larg e  connex* 
ion  of  felat'rves  and  fiends,  iw^c|p  those  paihful 
iensa1»onii,  ^hieh  are  only  £m  wlien  kindred  souls 
give  the  fmning  hand  and^last  farewell  to  those  to 
whom  they  aare  iendeared  by  every  friendly  tie.     # 

In  the  course  oC  tMir  voyage  I  was  born^  to  be^ 
the  s{M>rt  of  fortmieBnd  almost  an  ptitcast  to  civtlj 
society  ;  to  s^t^  the  current  of  adversity  thfougl 
a  long  chaijii  of  vicissitudes,  unsupported  by  tl 
iadi^eenf itender  parents,  or  the  hand  of  an  affel 
^  ^ioiKKteJriend;  and  even  without  the  enjoyment 
from  others,  of  any  of  those  tender  sympathy 
th^  are  adapted  to  the  sweetening  of  society, 
eept  such  as  naturally  JIqw    from   uncuttivi 
tipinds,  that  have  been  ca  o^d  by  ferpeiiy. 

Excepting  my  birth,  nothing  removable  ocij 
red  to  my  parents  on  their  passage,  ^Id  they  wi 
safely  funded  at  Philadelphia.  My  father  being 
fondof  ruirayife,  and  having  been  bred  to  agritdlk> 
tural  pursuits,  soon  left  the  city,  and  removed  his 
family  to  the  then  frontier  settlements  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, to  atraci  of  excellent  land  lying  on  Marsh 
creek.  At  that  place  Jje  cleared  a  large  farm,^  and 
for  seven^r  eight  years  enjoyed  the  fruits  of  his 
industry.  "Weace  attended  their  labors ;  and  t^y 
had  nothing  to  alarm  them,  save  the  midnight  ho«vl 
of  theprowUtig  wolf,  or  the  terrifying  shriek  of  the 
ferocious  pa»|her,  as  they  occasionally  visited  their 
improvemei^  to  take  a  lamKor  a  calf  to  satisfy 

their  hungeS 
INmng  ^p^iod  n^M^IK  had  two  sods^  h^ . 


^g^j^^mim 


ip^ip 


mmmi 


imv^mm 


20 


LIFE  OF 


l".S 


M    ' 


tiireen  whose  ages  there  was  a  difTererice  of  ahbut 
three  years :  the  oldest  was  named  Matthew,  and 
the  other  Roben|| 

Health  presldea^  eVery  countenance,  and  vigor 
and  strength  olvarail^rized  every  exertion.  Our 
mansioii  was  a  little  paradise.  Th^  morning  of 
my  childish,  happy  days,  will  ever  stand  fresh  in 
my  remembrance,  notWIttoanding  the  many  se- 
vere triaU  through  which  I  have  passed,  in  arriving 
at  my  present  situation,  at  so  iuivanced  an  age. 
ven  at  this  remote  period,  the  reeoUection  of  my 
leasant  home  at  my  father^s,  of  my  parents,  of 
y  hrothers  and  sister,  and  of  the  manner.ln  which 
was  deprived  of  them  all  at  once,  eflTects  mi»  ^ 
erfully,  that  I  am  almost  overwhelmed  with 
\  that  is  seemingly  insupportable.  Frequently 
am  of  those  happy  ilays:  but,  alasf  they  are 
;  they  have  left  me  to  be  carried  through  a 
ting  life,  dependent  for  the  little  pleasures  Of 
liearly  sevelltiy  years,  upon  the  tender  mercies  of 
the  Indians !  In  the  spring  of  175^?  and  through 
#)e  succeeding  seasons,  the  stories  of  Indian  bar* 
barities  intiicted  upon  the  whites  in  those  days, 
frequently  excited  in  my  parents  the  most  serious 
alarm  for  our  safety. 

The  next  year  the  storm  gathered  faster;  many ' 
murders  were  committed ;  and  many  ^y^tives  were 
exposed  to  meet  dettth  in  its  most  frtfrnful  form, 
by  having  their  bodies  stuck  full  of  pine  splinters, 
which  were  immediately  set  on  fire,  while  their 
tormentors,  exultl%  in  their  distress,  would  re- 
joice at  their  agony ! 

In  1754,  an  army  for  the  protection  of  the  set- 
tlers, and  to  drive  JMk  the  French  and  Indians, 


.     ^>        MARt  JfiMISON.  ""  21 

was  rabed  from  the  miHtia  of  the  Gotehial  govern- J^ 
nfents,  and  placed  (secondarily)  j|i|der  the  cotn^ ' 
Iffiand  of  Col.  George  Washingto^/  In  that  arm* 
If  had  an  Uncle,  wl\08e  name  ^m-  John  Jemi 
who  was  killed  at  the  battle  at  td^  Great  iStea 
I  or  Tort  Necessity.     Hid  #ife  Wkd  died  $(ome 
before  this,  and  left  a  young  child/ whicfh  my  mo- 
ther nursed  in  the  most  jteiiaer  manner,  till  its  mo* 
ther's  sister  Uiok  itii(#ay,  a  few  months  after  my 
tincle's  death,    t^li'e  f Vench  and  Indians,  afler  the 
surreiidef  of  t(0  Nec€jssiity  by  Col.  Washington, 
which.  hi^;q|lkied  the  ^ame  seasoi6,  and  soon  aftei^ 
'ill  vl<$idr5'  «vei^  tb^  at  that  pkce,)  grew  more 
^d  frtore  terHWe.    The  death  of  the  Whites,  mA 
rtunderinif  aAd  b'tfrnl^j^  their  property,  Was  appa"" 
Ferft)y  thelt  ohty  bbject:   But  ad  yet  We  had  not 
leard  the  death-t^^l,  nor  seen  the  srnoke  of  a 
(Wedifijf  that  ha^^Jiel^n  lit  by  an  Iridlan's  hand. 

The  telun»  of  a  new-year's  day  found  ns  unrtip- 
jsted ;  and  though  we  kn6w  that  the  enemy  was 
ti  ho  great  df^iiie  from  ^s,  my  father  concluded 
tbait  he  would  coittinue  to  occiitivhis  land  another 
[season:  expecting  (probably  fiom  the  great  eice^ 
tion^  which  thegovernnient  Was  then  making)  that 
las  soon  as  the  troops  co»  !d  commence  their  opera- 
tions in  the^|^g,tbe  enemy  would  be  conqueredl 
and  compell^llb  agree  to  a  treaty  of  (teace. 
'  In  the  preceding  autumn  my  father  either  mov- 
ed to  anotherpart  of  his  farm,  or  t|  another  neigh- 
borhood, a  shurt  distance  Irom  otS  former  abode. 
I  well  recdltect  moving,  and  that  tKI  barn  that  was 
on  the  place  we  moved  tawasbuilcff  l6gs,  though 
tlgjious^ '^as  a  go^  .one^  r^ 

h  winter  of  1^^4—5  w^s^  as  tnil^  as  a  com- 


$& 


LIFE  QF 


-a..    ' 


'       J1,  I 


mon  fall  seaspii)  and  the  spring  presented  a  pleas- 
ant seed  time^^^and  indicated  a  plenteous  harvest. 
My  father,  witti  the  assistance  of  his  oldest  sons, 
repaired  his  fan^  as  usual^  and  was  daily  preparing 
the  soil  for  the  rieception  of  the  seed.  His  cattle 
and  sheep  were  i^uiDerous,  and  according  to  the 
best  idea  of  wealth  Ibat  I  can  now  form,  he  was 
wealthy. 

Bat  aJas !  how  transitory  |yre  all  human  affairs! 
how  fleeting  are  riches !  noKr^lifittle  the  invisible 
thread  on  which  all  earthly  coni^fntti  are  suspend- 
ed !  Peace  in  a  moment  can  take  an  ioimeiHrucabija 
flight;  health  can  lose  its  rosy  cbeelir$  p  tifo 
win  vanish  like  a  vapor  at  the  appearanc^  of  the 
s(in!  In  one  fatal  day  our  prospects  were  all 
blasted  ;  and  death,  by  cruel  hands,  inflicted  upoa 
almost  the  whole  of  the  family. 

On  a  pleasant  day  in  the  sjlingof  I75i5,  hen 
my  father  was  sowing  flax-seed,  and  my  brothers 
driving  the  teams,  I  was  sent  to^  ne|gh(>or's  housci 
a  distance  of  perhaps  a  mile,  to  procure  a  horse 
and  leturn  with  it  the  next  monitng.  I  went  as  I 
was  directed.  I  was  out  of  tbe  house  in  the  be- 
ginning of  the  evening,  and  saw  a  sheet  wide 
spread  approaching  CoiqNirds  n^e,  in  which  I  was 
caught  (as  I  haye  ever  since  beliey^)  and  depriv- 
ed of  my  senses  !  The  family  so^  found  me  on 
the  ground,  almost  lifeless,  (as  the^^^said,)  took\ne 
in,  and  made  u^  of  every  remedy  in  their  power 
for  my  recovery,  but  without  effect  till  day-break, 
when  my  senses  returi^ed,  and  I  soon  found  my- 
self in  good  hmiith,  so  that  1  went  home  with  the 
horse  very  early  in  the  morning. 

The  appearance  of  that  sheet,  1  have  ever  <miq>* 


..V    ♦■ 


MARY  JEMISON. 


US 


sidered  as  a  forerunner  of  the  melandiply  catastro- 

iphe  that  so  soon  aAerwards  happeH)^  to  our  fam^ 

lily;  and  my  being  c^nght  in  it^;  I  believe,  was 

[ominous  of  my  preservation  frob  death  at  the 

time  we  were  captured. 


CHAPTER  IL 


H-' 


[Her  Education-T-K?aptivity.— Journey  to  Fort  Pitt.— 
Mipther's  FartSwell  Address.— -Murder  of  her  Family. 
— jPieparation  of  the  Scalpfi.— Indian  Precautions. — 
Arrivaf  at  Fort  Pitt,  &c. 

My  education  had  received  as  much  attention 
trpm  my  pareoj^^  their  situation  in  a  new  coun- 
try ^oiild^  ^^^^^^is  '  ^^^  been  at  school  some^ 
rhere  1  fearne^r^P^ead  in  a  book  that  was  about 
lalf  as  iairge  as  a  Bible;  and  in  the  Bible  I  had 
[read  a  little.  I  Bad  also  learned  the  Catechism, 
{which  I  used  frequently  to  repeat  to  my  parents, 
and  every  night,  befiire  I  went  to  bed,  I  was  obli- 
ged to  stand  up  b^ol«  my  mother  and  repeat 
some  words  that  I  suppose  was  a  prayer. 

My  reading!  iCatechfnn  and  prayers,  I  have 
long  since  i^otten ;  though  for  a  number  of 
the  first  years  that  I  lived  with  the  Indians^  I 
repeated  the  prayers  as  often  as  I  Jiad  an  opportu- 
nity. AAer  the  revolutionary  wat,  I  remembered 
the  names  of  some  of  the  letters  witen  I  saw  them ; 
but  h  ve  never  read  a  word  since  I  was  taken 
prisonr ;.  It  is  but  a  few  years  s^nce  a  Missionary 
Wndiy  gave  me  a  Bible,  which  l^m  very  fond  of 


WHP 


V 


^^Mai- 


b 


'ty. 


•)■; 


\\-        ':'•' 


t  ij  V  hearing  my  ip^ighbors  read  to  me,  and  should  be 
I      ^pleased  to  learjti  to  read  it  myself;  but  my  sight 
llnis  been  for  anumbec  of  years,  so  dim  that  I  have 
not  been  able  to  distinguish  one  letter  from  another. 
As  I  before  observed,  I  got  hoipe  with  the  horse 
^■^     very  earlv  in  the  morning,  where  I  found  a  man 
<    *  that  lived  in  our  neighborhood,  and  his  sister-in- 
law  who  had  three  children,  one  son  and  two 
daughters.     I  soon  learned  that  they  had  come 
there  to  live  a  short  time ;  but  for  what  purpose  I 
v^,  cannot  say.     The  woman's  husband,  however,  was 
at  that  time  in  Washington's  army^  fighting,  for 
his  country ;  and  as  her  brother-in-laW  hid  a  house 
^    she  had  lived  wiib  him  in  his  absence.    Tijeir 
^•i'  names  I  have  fbrgotten.:4<"t'|-Vi^\  i^^N^';"^  '■•^.?^3    , 
;h^  Immediately  after  I  got  home,  the  man  took 
'    ^  tne  horse  to  go  to  his  house  after  a  bag  of  grain, 
^      c:nd  took  his  gun  in  his  handJfeijthe  purpose  of 
^?    ^  killing  g&me,  if  he  should  chatt^e  to  see  any.— 
^v     Our  family,  as  usual,  was  busily  employed  about 
their  common  business.     Father  was  shaving  an 
axe-helve  at  the  side  of  the  house;  mother  was 
making  preparations  for  breakfast ;— my  two  old- 
est brothers  were  at  work  near  the  barn ;  and  the 
little  ones,  with  myself,  and  the  woman  and  her 
three  children,  were  in  the  house.  '^r.Gi 

c^*;  Bres^kfa^t  was  not  yet  ready,  when  we  v^ere 
alarmed  by  the  discharge  of  a  number  of  guns, 
that  ^emed  to  be  near.  Mother  and  the  women 
before  mentioned,  almost  fainted  at  the  repor^, 
and  every  one  trembled  with  fear.  On  opening 
the  door,  the  vtmii  and  hor§e  lay  dead  near  the 
liouse,  having  joiSt  been  shot  by  the  Indians*  i^. 
> 'I  was  afterwards  infor^i^^  that  the  Iil4i9|is 


-m- 


sf- 


»'"•. 


fr: 


MARY  JEMISON. 

1  ','      .    .V"'  -      " 

discovered  him  at  his  own  house  with  his  gun,  ai 
pursued  him  to  father'?,  where  they  shot  him  af3 
have  related.  They  first  secured  my  father,  aitd  ^ 
then  rushed  into  the  house,  and  without  the  least 
resistance  made  prisoners  of  my  mother,  Robert, 
JMatthew,  Betsey,  the  woman  tind  her  three  chil- 
dren, and  myself,  and  theii  commenced  plun- 
dering. :^  ■^>.-'^'-;4;:i::;  -"f^  r^Hp^ff:':Sfmy, 

My  two  brothers,  Thomas  and  John,  being  at 
the  barn,  escaped  and  went  to  Virginia,  where  ray 
grandfather  Erwin  then  lived,  as  I  was  informed 
by  a  Mr.  Fields,  who  was  at  my  house  about  the 
close  of  the  revoljtionary  war.         r^^£;n-' £:;i^^^^ 

The  party  4hat  took  us  consisted  of  six  Indians 
and  four  Frenchmen,  who  immediately  commen- 
ced plundering,  as  I  just  observed,  and  took  what 
they  considered  most  vaiu;i.ble ;  consisting  princi- 
ipalty  of  bread,  nij^al  and  meat.  Havinj|^aken  as 
mch  provision  as  they  could  carry,  they  set  out 
with  their  prisoners  in  great  haste,  for  fear  of 
detection,  and  soon  entered  the  woods.  Ofi  our 
march  that  dav.  an  Indian  went  behind  us  with  a 
whip,  with  which  he  frequently  lashed  the  children 
iQ  make  them  keep  up.  In  this  manner  we  trav- 
eled till  dark  without  a  mouthful  of  food  or  a 
drap  of  water ;  although  we  had  not  eaten  since 
thiE  oight  before.  Whenever  the  little  children 
cried  ihr  water,  the  Indians  would  make  them 
drink  urine  or  go  thimy.  At  night  thej^  encamped 
in  the  woods  without  fire  and  without  shelter, 
where  we  were  watched  with  the  greatest  vigilance. 
Extremely  fatigued,  and  very  hungry,  we  were 
compelled  to  lie  upon  the  ground  supperless  and 
without  a  drop  of  water  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of 


i,-^ 


'.''A' . 


^' 


^L-'ti 


A. 


LtPE  OF 


'^ "' ■'i*t*'-'''j  * 


i  S  .*•■.,• 


irppetites.  As  in' tfie  day  time,  so  tlie  h^^^ 
Ones  were  madd  to  drink  urine  in  the  night  if  they 
« cried  for  water  Fatigue  alone  brought  us  a  little 
sleep  for  the  refreshment  of  our  weary  limbs ;  and 
at  the  dawn  of  day  we  were  again  started  on  our 
inarch  in  the  same  order  that  we  had  proceeded 
on  the  day  oeforA  About  sunrise  we  were 
halted,  and  the  Indians  gave  us  a  full  breakfast  of 
provision  that  they  had  brought  from  my  father's 
house.  Each  of  us  being  very  hungry,  pnrtook  of 
this  bounty  of  the  Indians,  except  father,  who  was 
so  much  overcome  with  his  situation^ — so  much 
exhausted  by  anxiety  and  grief,  that  silent  despair 
seemed  fastened  upon  his  countenance,  and  h^ 
could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  refresh  his  sinking 
naiture  by  the  use  of  a  morsel  of  food.  Our  repast 
bemg  finished,  we  again  resumed  our  marcli,  and 
before  mon  passed  a  small  fort  that  1  heard  my 
father  say  was  called  Fort  Canagojigge. 

TJ^t  was  the  onl^  time  that  I  heard  him  speak 
from  the  time  we  were  taken  till  we  were  finally 
separated  the  following  night. 

Towards  evening  we  arrived  at  the  border  of  a 
dark  and  dismal  swamp,  which  was  covered  with 
small  hemlocks,  or  some  other  evergreen,  and  other 
bushes,  into  which  we  were  conducted ;  and  having 
gone  a  short  distance  we  stopped, ^>,  encamp  for 
the  night.  * 

Here  we  had  some  bread  and  meat  for  supper: 
but  the  dreai'iness  of  our  situation,  together  with  the 
uncertainty  under  which  we  all  labored,  as  to  our 
future  destiny,  almost  deprived  us  of  the  sense  of 
hunger,  and  destroyed  our  relish  for  food. 

Mother,  from  the  time  we  were  taken,  had 


^rK. 


>__■•.;■  y-,,^ 


■m 


Vt'--' 


•^'^mfiitiiWioi^'ri^-^ 


'"t^.HV'i  ;■'•.'■''• 


M4BJ  JEMISON. 


^ 


*t7 


manifested  a  great  degree  of  fortitude,  and  encour- 
aged us  to  supportourtroubles  without  complaining; 
and  by  her  conversation  seemed  to  make  the  dis* 
tanre  and  time  shorter,  and  the  way  more  smooth. 
But  father  lost  ail  his  ambition  in  the  beginning  of 
our  trouble,  and  continued  apparently  lost  to  every 
care — absorbed  in  melancholy.  Here,  as  before, 
she  insisted  on  the  necessity  of  our  eating ;  and  we 
obeyed  her,  but  it  wa$  done  with  heavy  hearts. 

As  soon  as  I  had  finished  my  supper,  an  Indian 
took  off  my  shoes  and  stockings  and  put  a  pair  af^    . 
moccasins  on  my  feet,  which  my  mother  observed;    * 
and  believing  that  they  would  spare  my  life,  eveil     'i 
if  they  should  destroy  the  other  captives,  addressed 
me  as  near  as  i  can  I'emember  in  the  following 
words:—-  ^>^^^:^<^.■^i?|^^*^^^v 

**My  dear  little  Maryi  I  fear  that  the  time  has 
arrived  when  we  must  be  parted  forever  Yom 
life,  my  child,  I  think  will  be  spared ;  but  we  shall 
probably  be  tomahawked  here  in  this  lonesome 
place  by  the  Indians.  O !  how  can  I  part  with  you 
my  darling?  What  will  become  of  my  sweet  little 
Mary  ?  Oh !  how  cjfn  I  jthink  of  your  being  con* 
tinned  m  captivity  without  a  hope  of  vour  being 
rescued  ?  O  that  death  had  snatched  you  from  my 
embraces  in  your  infancy ;  the  pain  of  parting  then 
would  have  been  pleasing  to  what  it  now  is ;  and  I 
should  have  seen  the  end  of  your  troubles! — Alas, 
my  dear!  my  heart  bleeds  at  liie  thoughts  of  what 
awaits  you ;  but,  if  you  leave  us,  remember  my 
child  your  own  name,  and  the  name  of  your  father 
and  mother.  Be  careful  and  not  forget  your 
English  tongue.  If  you  shall  have  an  opportunity 
to  get  away  from  the  Indians,  don't  try  to  escape; 


^t^- 


'J-'f:X. 


^iLs.,\'j^ ' . 


!)■(' 


f     * 


i    .if 


?». 


§i':j^^'^^-W 


'•'"'■i 


LIFE  OP  ^i 


1  \- 


^  -M 


(i; 


Jearned  you-,^  ^g^^^-O   ^'e  prHye„thacI  have 

,  Child,  and  innfce  you  co,„Z.\  ?^  '''**»  y»»  my 
?"ring  this  tioS  the  InH-  "'''*  "•"''  '"»PPy-"  ^^ 
«nd  stockings  C'tST,  ttle  l!L''W  ""^  '''•"^^ 
the  woman  who  was  tafcentitif^  •"*  ^'«>nged-to 
«"'"*  on  his  feet,  as  thev  L7J^  ''\^"«'  Put  moc 
I  was  crying.  A„  Tn^t^  ^**"^  '•*'«•'«  on  mine 
"y«e.f  ^y  ti  W  tta'r''  1V'«'«  'X'y^nd 

«ary_don't  cry  mv  chiM      n'*?*^*  "D»"'t  «y 
|'^-ell^re^,?|^jS&;,C^FiM  Mess  yo«^ 

,  n'^ht.    The  recollection  ofr,?"*  "'  *"  "Pe"**  «he 
:  •  "Other  kept  me  awake  whHr'' ''  *''  ""^  »«'"''w 
flowed  from  my  eves      a         *,''*  **'"'*  eonstamlv 
night  the  little^borb'     edT''"'  °'"  *™«  «»  ^ 
a^«y  with  him  and  Sear  n'?^.r?T'y  *"  ™n 
remembering  the  adWcerhL"'.* '?*"»"';  »>« 
and  knowini  the  dZZl  tL"!"  t^^y  ^«'«*ved, 
exposed,  in  trave/C^th^  7'"'^''  *«'  "houW  be 
a  guide,  through  a  wlrme^'J""''  "■'^'^  '^'"'""t 
h«m  that  I  would  not  «f  »  ?  ""'^"»^"  to  us,  I  told 
,stiH  til!  morning         *"'  «"«!  Pe"uaded  him  to  lie 

Pf'S^  -  M  K:^.S^/£r'  -«» French: 
Jut  our  friends  were  left  hi;  J^'T'  *="'»« '«  «s; 
for  any  one  to  fomJZtZ.     J'  '^  ''"P-'^ible 
mgswere  at  the  sight  of  thJ"^ '*'""*  ""y  feel- 
supposed  had  murdei^d  ml  r  """'^f*'''  *^""'  ' 

«^'»a„<«fHe„ds,'::3,7.crrs;^;i;rs 

^yfp^f?.:.  ^^^^  •..  A^^'^^     -    <^^  '       '  "'^  swamp  to 


>^-" 


r»> 


■:/<^*^ 


l^#^^i-:\:v^^^ 


^)--. 


MARY  JEMISON, 


.AM 


"■  4t 


£9 


be  devoured  by  wild  beasts!  But  what  could  I  do? 
A  poor  liJjHe  defenceless  girl }  without  the  power 
or  inean^W  escaping^  without  a  home  to  go  to, 
even  if  I  could  be  liberated  i  without  a  knowledge 
of  the  direction  or  distance  ta  my  former  place  of 
residence ;  and  without  a  living  friend  to  whom  to 
fly  for  protection,  I  felt  a  kltid  of  horror,  anxiety, 
and  dread,  that,  to  me,  seemed  insupportable,  t 
durst  not  cry— I  durst  not  complain ;  and  to  inquire 
of  them  the  fate  of  my  friends  (even  if  I  could  have 
mustered  resolution)  was  beyond  my  ability,  as  I 
could  not  speak  their  language,  nor  they  understand 
mine.     My  only  relief  was  in  silent  stifled  sobs. 

My  suspicions  as  to  the  fate  of  my  parents  proved 
too  true ;  for  soon  afler  I  left  them  they  were  killed 
and  scalped,  together  with  Robert,  Matthew,  Bet- 
sey, and  the  woman  and  her  two  children,  and 
mangled  in  the  most  shocking  manr^er.    *^  I'  p^^o 

Having  given  the  little  boy  and  myself  some 
[bread  and  meat  for  breakfast,  they  led  us  on  as  fast 
as  we  could  travel,  and'one  of  them  went  behind 
and  witli  a  long  staHT,  picked  up  all  the  grass  and 
weeds  that  we  trailed  down  by  going  over  them. 
By  taking  that  pa'ecaution  they  avoided  detection; 
for  each  weed  was  so  nicely  placed  in  its  natural 
position  that  no  one  would  have  suspected  that  we 
had  passed  that  way.  It  is  the  custom  of  Indians 
when  scouting,  or  on  private  expeditions,  to  step 
carefully  and  where  no  impression  of  their  feet  can 
be  left — shunning  wet  or  muddy  ground.  They 
seldom  take  liold  of  a  bush  or  limb,  and  never  break 
one;  and  by  observing  those  precautions  and  that 
of  setting  up  the  weeds  and  grass  which  they  neces- 
sarily lop,  they  completely  elude  the  sagacity  of 


,  R'W-" . 


,.^'- 


..-•■> 


'MX.^^ 


iMih^ 


p^iyw^M'  ]m*i*m  ■ 


'■<•*;- 


SO 


f,.r' 


:..^> 


LIFE  OF'^'"^*'^ 


'  their  pursuers^  and  escape  that  punishment  which 
they  are  conscioas  they  merit  from  tofe  hand  of 
justice.  fl 

After  a  hard  da|r's  march  we  encamped  in  a 
thicket,  where  the  Indians  made  a  shelter  af  boughs, 
and  then  built  a  godtf  fire  to  warm  and  dry  our 
bepumbed  limbs  and  d^thlng;  for  it  had  rained 
some  through  the  day.     Here  we  were  again  led 
as  before.     When  the  Indians  had  finished  their 
supper  they  took  from  their  baggage  a  number  of 
scalps  and  went  about  preparing  them  for  the 
market,  or  to  keep  without  spoiling^  by  straining 
them  over  small  hoops  which  they  pi-epared  for 
that  purpose,  and  then  drying  and  scraping  them 
by  the  fire.     Having  put  the  scalps,  yet  wet  and 
bk)ody,  upon  the  hoops,  and  stretched  them  to  their 
full  extent,  they  held  them  to  the  fire  till  they  were 
partly  dried  and  then  with  their  knives  commenced 
scraping  off  the  flesh;   and  in  that  way  they  con- 
tinued to  work,  alternately  drying  and  scraping 
them,  till  they  were  dry  Imd  clean.     That  being 
done  they  combed  the  hair  in  the  neatest  manner, 
arid  then  painted  it  and  the  edges  of  the  scalps  yet 
.    on  the  hoops,  red.     Those  scalps  I  knew  at  the  time 
„  must  have  been  taken  from  our  family  by  the  color 
of  the  hair.     My  mother's  hair  was  red;  and  I 
could  easily  distinguish  my  father's  and  the  chil- 
dren's from   each  other.     That  sight  was   most 
appaling;  yet,  I  was  obliged  to  endure  it  without 
complaining.  .Jv^.?sw^^A^;>4;L^^*?l^■vi/^Tic^ 

,y^   In  the  course  of  the  night  they  made  me  to  un- 
;    derstand  that  they  should  not  have   killed  the 
family  if  the  whites  had  not  pursued  them,  w^:- 
Mr.  Fields,  whom  1  have  before  mentioned, 


•  -,.w  If. 

■   *  ii  ■   ' 


wt.-"^'' 


.ijSl'V 


.^*'. 


■  ^',-  ' 


:  .'V- 


\w>,;^.''"^ 


•-1"    V: 


.^  Jr..  "^  "», 


.  ,  >ed  in  a 
of  boughs, 
id  dry  our 
ad  rained 
again  led 
hed  their 
number  of 
n  for  the 
^  straining 
■p^red  for 
iing  them 
t  Wet  and 
;m  to  their 
they  were 
mmenced 
they  con- 
scraping 
hat  being 
t  manner, 
scalps  yet 
t  the  time 
the  color 
i;  and  I 
the  chil- 
^as   most 
t  without 


MARY  JEMISON. 


fl 


iformed  me  that  at  the  time  we  were  taken,  he 
[ived  in  the  pcinity  of  my  father ;  and^that  on 
tearing  of  oir  captivity,  the  whole neignDorhoo^ 
[urned  out  in  pursuit  of  the  enemy^  and  to  delivljc 
IS  if  possible :  but  that  their  efforts  were  unavailing, 
'hey  however  pursued  us  to  the  dark  swamp^ 
rhere  they  found  my  father,  his  family  and  com- 
panions, stripped  and  mangled  in  the  most  inhuman 
[manner:  That  from  thence  the  inarch  of  the  crv^el  I? 
monsters  could  not  be  traced  in  any  direction  ;| 
and  that  they  returned  to  their  homes  with  the 
melancholy  tidings  of  our  misfortunes,  siijjppsirig 
Ithat  we  had  alt  shared  in  tlie  massacre.  ^^  ;>^  * 
The  next  rk.orning  we  wenton ;  the  Indian  going 
behind  us  and  setting  up  the  weeds  as  on  the  day 
before.  At  night  we  encamped  on  the  j;rpMnd  in 
the  open  air,  without  a  shelter  or  fire,  5  "^^v 

In  the   morning  we  again  set  out  early,  and 
[travelled  as  on  the  two  former  days,  though  the 
weather  was  extremely  uncomfortable,  froin  the 
continual  falling  of  rain  and  snow.  «j?j^*4'V J^  li' 

At  nii(ht  the  snow  fell  fast,  and  the  Indians  built 
a  shelter  of  boughs,  and  a  fire,  where  we  rested 
tolerably  dry  through  that  and  the  two  succeeding 
nights.  ^■4v'^-^^^v#^^:iW-^^F-^ 

y?When  we  stopped,  and  before  the  fire  was 
kindled,  I  was  so  much  fatigued  from  running,  and 
so  far  benumbed  by  the  wet  and  cold,  that  I  expect- 
ed that  I  must  fail  and  die  before  I  coul(|get  warm 
and  comfortable.  The  fire,  however,  soon  restored 
the  circulation,  and  after  I  had  taken  my  supper  I 
felt  so  that  I  rested  well  througlvthe  night. 
'  kOn  account  of  the  storm,  we  were  two  days  at  that 
place.    On  one  of  those  days,  a  party  conbistiog  of 


■>r-^ 


^t 


y  -■•. 


^^ 


•^-K. 


'''■^%. 


^m( 


^ 


;  ■.■.A-,'-*'  ■ 


•J£ 


'tVi.^. 


'■/■J 


m 


'■*•«'• 


.j^< 


*  LIFE  OF   liv 


J 


*««J  and  dejected,     ffj.  no'lTl"  '^°  *«"  very] 
Misery  certainkr  wL    '"*'  '  '"'^e  forgotten  7 

':Jt;  »PP«««"ce,  that  hlE^,;^""'^''  '  ^"ew  from  3 

'-    assistance.     I„  t|,e  aSf  ^^"^<*  ™e  no  kind  o/f 
J?^.   *'rich  they  d^^iZ"'','"  {"*'''»'« ''"ed  a 

«aS:5  j::,^'it'^  ^'"^^^       t^^  *' 

i«^^r';::r7^C^t::^satth 

JPj^ns,  four  FrLh^r'X""""'^""^  '^^-^ 

P-ce  w«hout  .an  ladiLi  iliT-  ^      "*  «  moderate 
pursuers.  .;i  >  •  y^««;l>ehind  us  to  dbcei^!j^^ 

,    __/«  the  afternoon  we  t^t-^''  W/'H-fe 

wf  Indians  performed  TL  —*'"^  ''a'ted  while 
rfoners  which  tb^y  deeme/""*'"™  "P""  <! "  r 
wrt  was  tiiei,  occuni„^  "'"emed  necessarv'.     Ti  Xl 

?«d  v^as  called  Kte''^^'«"=''  a-'d  Ind     ,,' 
junction  of  the  lu^        Q"eane.     it  stood    ,.,' 

*««vis«^;    '  *  .^""^'""^'^   riven, 


4. 


v'V 


MARY  JEMISON. 


>v. 


3S 


^here  the  Ohio  river  begins  to  take  its  iiaoie.   The 

rord  O-hi-o,  signifies  bloody. 

At  the  place  where  we  halted,  the  Indians 
;ombed  the  hair  of  the  voung  man,  the  hoy  an4 
myself,  and  then  painted  our  faces  and  hair  red| 
jn  the  finest  Indian  style.  Wp  were  then  conduct*^ 
;d  into  the  fort,  where  we  deceived  a  little  bread  J 
md  were  thei)  shut  up  and  left  to  tarry  alone  . 
through  the  nights  ^..^.•'>-^-'^'r:  ,       v  ,   t£  '^ 


,.^7«Vfi^y',',i 


CHAPTER 


\he  is  given  to  two  Squaws. — Her  Journey  down  the 
Ohio. — Passes  a  Shawanee  town  where  white  men 
had  just  been  burnt. — Arrives  at  theSeneca  town.-^ 
Her  Reception. — She  is  adopted. — Ceremony  of 
Adoption. — IndianCustom.— Address.— She  receives 
a  new  name.--*Her  Employment. — ^Retains  her  own 
and  learns  the  Seneca  Language.— Situation  of  the 
Town,  &CC.— Indians  go  on  a  Hunting  Tour  to  Sci- 
ota  and  take  her  with  them. — Ret  '.rns. — Shfe  is  takert* 
to  Fort  Pitt,  and  then  hurried  back  by  her  Indian 
Sisters. — Her  hopes  of  Liberty  destroyed. — Second 
Tour  to  Sciota. — Return  to  Wiishto,  fcc. — Arrival 
of  Prisoners. — Priscilla  Ramsay. — -Her  Chain.— 
Mary  marries  a  Delaware. — Her  Affection  for  him.— ^ -^ 
Birth  and  Death  of  her  first  Child. — Her  Sickness 
and  Recovery. — Birth  of  Thomas  •f^mison.  ,^^^  ^^  wW-'^ 

The  nifi^ht  was  spent  in  (iclooiifiy  forebodings! 
What  the  result  of  our  captivity  would  be,  it  wa| 
out  of  our  power  to  determine  or  even  iraagine^^;' 
At  times  we  cpuld  almost  realize  the  approach  of 


('- 


^Ht 


f* 


..r^ 


u 


im- 


iti'i 


li, 


^y.;W^ 


our  (naslcrs  to  butcher  and  scalp  us 5 — again  we 
could  nearly  see  the  pile  of  wood  kindled  on  which 
we  were  to  be  roasted ;  and  then  we  would  imagine 

ipurselves  at  liberty  ;  alone  and  defenceless  in  the 
forest,  surrounded  by  wjld  beasts  that  were  ready 
to  devour  us.  The  anxiety  of  our  minds  drove 
sleep  from  our  eyelidaj  and  it  was  with  a  dreadful 
hope  and  painful  impatience  that  we  waited  for| 
the  morning  to  determine  our  fate. 

U  The  morning  at  length  arrived,  and  our  masters! 
c^me  early  and  let  us  out  of  the  house,  and  gave] 
the  young  man  and  boy  to  the  French,  who  imme- 
diately took  them  away.  Their  fate  I  neverl 
learned  ;  as  I  have  not  seen  nor  heard  of  theinl 

Smce.  ^;i*t^■^^^^i.^V>■,y^s-^:^.^.W> 

^  I  was  now  left  atone  in  the  f&rt,  deprived  of  my] 
former  companions,  and  of  every  thing  that  was 
near  or  dear  to  me  but  life.  But  it  was  not  long 
before  I  was  in  some  measure  relieved  by  the! 
appearance  of  two  pleasant  looking  squaws  of  the! 
Seneca  tribe,  who  came  and  examined  me  atten-| 
tively  for  a  short  time,  and  then  went  out.  After  a 
few  minutes  absence  they  returned  with  my  former  | 
niasters,  who  gave  m^  to  them  to  dispose  of  as  they 
pleased.     .,:;f5^^&^^/jt.^/  ■■^<pi^:::*^^:f: 

The  Indians  by  whom  I  was  taken  were  a  party 
of  Shawanees,  if  I  remember  right,  that  lived,  when 
at  home,  a  long  distance  down  the  Ohio.^  ^  ^  ^:^ 

:  My  former  Indian  masters,  and  the  two  squaws, 
were  soon  ready  to  leave  the  fort,  and  accordingly 
embarked ;  tbe  Indians  in  a  large  canoe,  and  the 
jtwo  squaws  and  myself  in  a  small  one,  and  went 

>:;^wn  the  Ohio. 


^^ffi^^'i  %M:^Mt^-i4^k'ii%- 


iV"«.* 


When  we  set  off,  an  Indian  in  the  forward  canoe 


»Vir 


S'.^w 


«■■'■■;' 


IJ-^-iii' 


itV,.:-fv;5:^v  :;;V»;# 


■*<••< 


•r  ■  '  ■»    V  ' 


MARY  JEMISON. 


3^^^* 


took  the  scalps  of  my  former  friends,  strung  them 
m  a  pole  that  he  placed  upon  his  shoulder,  and  in 
that  manner  carried  ihem,  standing  in  the  ntern  of 
the  canoe,  directly  before  us  as  we  sailed  down  the 
*iver,  to  the  town  where  the  tw^squaws  resided. 
On  our  way  we  passed  a  S|awanee  town,  where 
saw  a  number  of  heads.  Jirms,  legs,  and  other 
fragments  of  the  bodies  of  some  white  people  who 
lad  just  been  burnt.  The  parts  that  remained 
rere  hanging  on  a  pole  which  was  supported  at 
iach  end  by  a^  crotch  stuck  in  the  ground,  and 
^ere  roast^  #  burnt  black  as  a  coal.  The  fire 
^as  y^t burning;  and  the  /^hole  appearances  af- 
forded a  spectacle  so  shock hig,  that,  even  to  this 
lay,  my  blood  almost  curdles  in  my  veins  when  t 
think  of  them!      ^\.  '^^^-^-m^-^^^^^^-- ■  ^ 

At  night  we  arrived  at  a  small  Seneca  Indian 
^own,  at  the  mouth  of  a  small  river,  that  was  called 
>y  the  Indians,  in  the  Seneca  language.  She-nan^ 
jee,*  where  the  two  Squaws  to  whom  I  belonged 
'esided.  There  we  landed,  and  the  Indians  went 
ion;  which  was  the  last  I  ever  saw  of  them. 

Having  made  fast  to  the  shore,  the  Squaws  left 
I  me  in  the  canoe  while  they  went  to  their  wigwam 
or  house  in  the  town,  and  returned  with  a  suit  of 
Indian  clothing,  all  new,  and  very  dean  and  nice. 
My  clothes^  though  whole  and  good  when  I  was 


■:^ 


'  '">^-  ?..' 


1  canoe  ■  i°in9. 


*  That' town,  according  to  the  geographical  description 
given  by  Mrs.  Jemison,  must  have  stood  at  the  mouth  of 
Indian  Cross  creek,  which  is  about  7^  miles  by  wateri 
below  Pittsburgh  \  or  at  ihe  mouth'  of  jUiiian  Short  creek, 
87  miles  below  Pittsburgh,  where  the  town  of  Warren  now 
stands  :  But  at  which  of  those  places  1  aiSl  unable  to  deter- 


^.  ■»  ~  J.  ,^' 


iSuihot. 


-'vr. 


:« 


'■(■ 


ivi:,. 


■CX';  ■■ 


.•&  ■ 


->f--' 


wmgmk 


■';>' 


-  ^^ 


ii;nr 


LIFE  OF. ,  t 

1 


taken,  were  now  torn  in  pieces,  so  that  I  wasi 
almost  naked.  They  first  undressed  me  andV] 
threw  my  rags  into  the  river;  then  washed  meP 
clean  and  dressed  me  in  the  new  suit  they  had  justl 
brogghty  in  complfite  Indian  style ;  and  then  led| 
me  home  and  seated  me  in  the  center  of  theit 
wigwam,    ■i^'!^  >-^  ,. 

I  had  been  in  that  situation  but  a  few  minutesJ 
before  all  the  Squaws  in^  the  town  came  in  to  seel 
me.    I  was  soon  surrounded  by  them,  and  theyl 
immediately  set  up  a  most  dismal  howling,  crying] 
bitterly,  and  wringing  their  hands  Ii|  all  the  aj 
nies  of  grief  for  a  deceased  relative* 
#J  Their  tears  flowed  freely,  and  they  exhibited  al 
the  signs  of  real  mourning.     At  the  commenc< 
ment  of  this  scene,  one  of  their  number  began,  inl 
It  voice  somewhat  between  speaking  and  singing,! 
jto  recite  some  words  to  the  following  purport,  and| 
continued  the  rc^citation  till  the  ceremony  was  end- 
#d ;  the  company  at  the  same  time  varying  thel 
^appearance  of  their  countenances,  gestures  and 
^tone  of  voice,  so  as  to  correspond  with  the  senti- 
'  meuts  expressed  by  their  leader  : 

"  Oh  our  brother !  Alas!  He  is  dead — he  has  I 
%one;  he  will  never  return !  Friendless  he  died 
on  thi  neld  of  the  siaini  where  his  bones  are  yet| 
lyiug  ^» buried  !  Oh,  who  will  not  mourn  his  sad 
me?  No  tears  dropped  around  him;  oh,  no! 
No  tears  of  his  sisters  were  there  !  He  fell  in  his 
prime,  when  his  arm  was  most  needed  to  keep  us 
from  danger!  Alas  !  he  has  gone  !  and  lefl  us  in 
sorrow,  his  lo$s  to  bewail :  Oh  where  is  his  spirit  ? 
His  spirit  went, naked,  and  hungry  it  wanders,  and 
f|  thirsty  and  wbimded  it  groans  to  return !  Oh  hel[)- 


».i 


^' 


•*«. 


f^-^. 


■V.' 


:i*l 


t:%TV.\Rfe'V;. 


i    MARY  JEMISON. 


07 


less  and  wretched,  our  brotlier  has  gone !  No 
[blanket  nor  food  to  nourish  and  warm  him ;  nor 
landles  to  light  him,  nor  weapons  of  war : — Oh, 
lone  of  thuse  comforts  had  he!  But  well  wg 
remember  his  deeds !— The  deer  he  could  take  oa 
le  chase !  The  panther  shrunk  back  at  the  sight 
>f  his  strength !  His  enemies  fell  at  bis  feetf  He 
ras  brave  and  courageous  in  war !  As  the  fawn 
le  was  harmless :  his  fViendship  was  ardent :  his 
temper  was  gentle:  his  pity  was  great!  Oh! 
our  friend,  our  companion  ia  dead !  Our  brother, 
|our  brother,  alas  !  he  is  gone  !  But  why  do  we 
jTieve  for  hts  loss  ?  In  the  strength  of  a  warrior, 
/mdaunted  he  left  us,  to  fight  bv  the  side  of  the 
iChiefs !  His  war-whoop  was  shrill !  His  rifle  well 
aimed  laid  his  enemies  low :  hfs  tomahawk  drank 
of  their  blood  :  and  his  knife  flayed  their  scalps 
[while  yet  covered  with  gore !  And  why  do  we 
lourn  ?  Though  he  fell  on  the  field  of  the  slain, 
rith  glory  he  fell,  and  his  spirit  went  up  to  the 
[land  of  Ills  fathers  in  war !  Then  why  do  we 
mourn?  With  transports  of  joy  they  received 
him,  and  fed  him,  and  clothed  him,  and  wel* 
corned  him  there !  Oh  friends,  he  is  happy ;  then 
dry  up  your  tears!  His  spirit  has  seen  our  distress, 
and  sent  us  a  helper  whom  with  pleasure  we 
greet  DicH^wamis  has  come ;  then  let  us  receive 
her  with  joy!  She  is  handsome  and  pleasant  I 
Oh !  she  is  our  sister,  and  gladly  we  welcome 
her  here.  Ijn  the  place  of  our  brother  she  stands 
in  our  tribe.  With  care  we  will  ^uard  her  from 
trouble ;  ai 


leave 


us 


« 


may  she  be  happy  till  her  spirit  shall 


•??.■  1' 


|p|U|  course  of  that  ceremony,  from  mouioing 


4     J. 


'.!i*l-  ■*. 


if  fy. 


^l 


•{., 


f%^^*' 


#->;U 


■&i. 


\vi^- 


'Jr::i 


4>l 


"vrv  ■■.''.rjirjs 


irK--' 


LIFE  OF 


ii'i 


•J^,' 


,.-v». 


:''.^ 


*■■ 


'■^k 
<  «*«'.i 


v^ 


'S^v- 


they  became  serene— !oy  sparkled  in  their  coun- 
tenances, and  they  seemed  to  rejoice  over  me  as 
over  a  long  lost  child.  I  was  made  welcome! 
amongst  them  as  %  sister  to  the  two  Squaws  before 
mentioned,  and  was  lulled  Dickewamis;  which 
being  interpreted,  s^^iiifies  3  pretty  girl,  a  hand- 
some girl,  or  a  pleasai>;.  good  thing.  That  is  the 
name  by  which  I  have  %ver  since  been  called  by 
the  Indians. 

I  aflerwards  learned  that  the  ceremony  I  at 
that  time  passed  through,  was  that  of  adoption. 
The  two  squaws  had  lost  a  brother  in  Wash- 
ington's war,  sometime  in  the  year  "fefore,  and 
in  consequence  of  his  death  went  up  to  Fort  Pitt, 
on  the  day  on  which  I  arrived  there,  in  order  to 
teceive  a  prisoner  or  an  enemy's  scalp,  to  supply 
tb^ir  loss.  .';/^.'-;.^y;  ■>'  ^^^^-^^aJ^vjiSvi' 

It  is  a  custom  of  tfie  Indians,  when  one  of  their 
number  is  slain  or  taken  prisoner  in  battle,  to  give 
to  fliKi  nearest  relative  to  the  dead  '>r  absent,  a  pris- 
r  oner,  if  they  have  chanced  to  take  one,  and  if  not, 
to  give  him  the  scalp  of  an  eriejmy.  On  the  return 
of  the  Indians  from  conquest,  which  is  always 
^flirfhounced  by  peculiar  shouiipgs,  demonstrations 
of  joy,  and  the  exhibitioii  of  some  trophy  of  victor}^, 
the  mourners  come  forward  and  make  their  claiins. 
If  they  rVceive  a  prisoner,  it  is  at  their  option  either 
to  satiate  their  vengeance  by  taking  his  life  in  the 
most  cruel  manner  they  can  conceive  of;  or,  to 
receive  and  adopt  him  into  the  family,  in  the  place 
of  him  whom  they  have  lost.  All  the  prisoners 
that  are  taken  in  battle  and  carrier!  to  the  encamp> 
inent  or  town  by  the  Indians,  aie  given  to  the 
bereaved  families^  till  their  number  is  nsade  good. 


\-lr 


m] 


M,:;^1  .*■ 


-» 


■v^^^ 


MARY  JEMISON. 


-i.,-^.   V 


",;& 


nd  unless  the  rnourners  have  b<ii  ju?«f  receivi 
the  news  of  their  bereavement,  aDd  are  under  the 
jperation  of  a  paroxysm  of  grief,  anger  and  re- 
venge; or,  unless  the  prisoner  is  very  old,  sickly, 
If  homely,  they  generally  save  him,  and  treat  hioi 
:indly.    I  ut  if  their  mental  wound  is  fresh,  their 
loss  so  greit  that  they  deem  it  irreparable,  or  ij 
their  prisoner  or  prisoners  do  not  meet  their  appro^^ 
ation,  no  torture,  let  it  be  ever  so  cruel,  seema^ 
iufficient  to  make  them  satisfaction.    It  is  iamilyjg; 
ind  not  national,  sacrifices  amongst  the  Indiaos^y 
that  haa  given  them  an  indelible  stamp  as  b^fbari*^' 
ins,  and  identified  their  character  with  the  ideii 
^hich  is  generally  formed  of  unfeeling  ferocityj^ 
md  the  most  abandoned  cruelty. 

It  was  my  happy  lot  to  be  accepted  for  adoption ; 
md  at  the  time  of  the  ceremony  I  was  received  by 
the  two  squaws,  to  supply  the  place  of  their  brothec 
in  the  family  5  and  I  was  ever  considered  ana  treaty 
;d  by  them  as  a  real  sister,  the  s^iai^e  a|  j^ugh  I 
fhad  been  born  of  their  mother.  ^  "  - 

During  my  adoption,  I  sat  motionless,  nearly 
|terf ified  to  death  at  the  appearance  and  actions  of 
[the  company,  expecting  every  moment  to  feel  their 
fversgeance,  and  suffer  death  on  the  spot.  I  was, 
however,  happily  disappointed,  when  at  the  close 
of  the  ceremony  the  company  retired,  and  my 
sisters  we»:i  about  employing  every  means  for  my 
consolation  and  comCbrt/    ^ 

tfeing  now  settled  and  provided  with  a  home,  I 
was  employed  in  nursing  the  children,  and  doing 
light  work  about  the  house.  Occasionally  I  was 
sent  out  with  the  Indian  hunters,  when  they  went 
but  a  short  distance,  to  help  ihem  carry  their  game. 


-;•%■ 


■vtA. 


Vfc-, 


W>" 


■■,<\ 


t'- 


4^ 


;  V 


■,*i^ 


^  !- 


If  i»*t: 


%■ 


iAJ^E  OF   ■^' 


^i 


f 


Hi^ 


\\\ 


it*  'i 


Bfy  situation  was  easy;  I  had  no  particular  Iiard- 
Btiiyz  to  endure.     But  still,  the  recollection  of  my  I 

y  parents,  my  brothers  and  sisters,  my  home,  and 

J  my  own  captivity,  destroyed  my  happiness,  and! 

#  made  me  constantly  solitary,  lonesome  and  gloomy. 

^  i  .>.My  sisters  would  not  allow  me  to  speak  English 

"^  In  their  Iiearing ;  but  remembering  the  charge  that 
my  dear  mother  gave  me  at  the  time  I  left  her^ 
whenever  I  chanced  to  be  alone  I  made  a  business 
of  repeating  my  prayer,  catechism,  or  something  I 
had  leained  in  order  that  I  might  not  Ibrget  my 
own  language.  By  practising  in  th?t  way!  retain- 
ed it  till  I  came  to  Genesee  flatf\  v  -^e  I  soon 
became  acquainted  with  English  pi   g>  .,  «vitli  whom 

,.  I  have  been  almost  daily  in  the  habit  of  conversing. 

My  sisters  were  diligent  in  teaching  me  their 

Ir.i^uage;  and  to  their  great  satisfaction  I  soon 

leained  so  that  I  could  understand  it  readily,  and 

speak  it  fluently.    I  was  very  fortunate  in  falling 

>into  their  hands;  for  they  were  kind  good  natured 

^  v/omen ;  peaceable  and  mild  in  their  dispositions; 
,^  temperate  and  decent  in  their  habits^  and  very  i*»ii- 

'  der  and  gentle  towards  me.  I  have  great  re  ^sci 
to  respect  them,  though  they  have  been  <';4\  . 
great  number  of  years. 

The  town  where  they  lived  was  pleasantly  situ* 
ed  on  the  Ohio,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Shenanjee : 
the  land  produced  good  corn ;  the  woods  furnished 
«  plenty  of  game,  and  the  waters  abounded  with 
fish.  Another  river  emptied  itself  into  the  Ohio, 
directly  opposite  the  mouth  of  the  Shenanjee. 
We  spent  the  summer  at  that  place,  wh*  ^  wc 
planted,  hoed,  and  harvested  a  large  crop  ol  *-  -a, 
of  an  excellent  quality.  >    > 


t* 


>«»'w  .1  ■»:' 


•-.,t 


m 


u.,j. 


'•&.!'*::>^_^vl?:i 


r-a't'] 


■r-x, 


'VS'-' 


ff^\  ■'¥';!• 


"i.y 


^■i;f;-jt'-'>:r. ':.''' 


MABY  JEMISON. 


''■¥'■' 


r4i 


About  the  time  of  corn  harvest,  Fort  Pitt  was 
taken  fr^in  the  French  by  the  English.* 

The  corn  being  harvested,  the  indiaus  took  it  on 
horses  and  in  canoes,  and  proceeded  down  the 
Ohio,  occasionally  stopping  to  hunt  a  few  days,  till 
we  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  Scipta  river;  where 
they  established  their  winter  quarters,  and  contin- 
ued hunting  till  the  ensuing  spring,  in  the  adjacent 
wilderness.  While  at  that  place  I  went  with  the 
other  children  to  assist  the  hunters  to  bring  in  their 
game.  The  forests  on  the  Sciota  were  well  stocked 
with  elk,  deer,  and  other  large  animals;  and  the 
marshes  contained  large  numbers  of  beaver,  musk- 
rat,  &c.  which  made  excellent  hunting  for  the  In- 
dians; who  depended,  for  their  meat,  upon  their 
success  in  taking  eik  and  deer;  and  forammunitioa 
and  clothing,  upon  the  beaver,  muskrat,  and  other 
furs- that  they  could  take  in  addition  to  their  peltry. 

The  season  for  hunting  being  passed,  we  all 
returned  in  the  spring  to  the  mouth  of  the  river 
Shenanjee,  to  the  houses  and  fields  we  had  left  in 
the  fall  before.  There  we  again  planted  our  corn, 
squashes,  ^ind  beans,  on  the  fields  that  we  occupied 
the  pieceding  summer.  w^-^' 

'V*The  above  statement  h  apparently  an  error;  and  is  to 
b6  attributed  solely  to  the  treachery  of  the  old  lady's  memo- 
ry ;  though  sh  :siORfident  that  that  event  took  place  ot 
the  time  above  ..i.  aioned.  It  is  certain  that  Fort  Pitt  was 
not  evacuated  by  tht  Frenc.i  and  given  up  to  the  English j, 
till  sometiume  in  November,  1768.  It  is  possible,  however, 
that  an'  armistice  was  agreed  upon,  and  that  for  a  tim;»,  be- 
tween the  spring  of  1755  and  1758,  both  nations  visited  that 
post  svithont  fear  of  molestation.  As  the  succeeding  part  of 
the  narrative  corresponds  with  the  true  historical  chain  of 
events,  the'  public  will  overlook  this  circumstance,  which 
appears  unsupported  by  history.  Author, 

D2 


•>, 


f 


'  V.;\    i'k',,.   - 


■itfil 


't-mr^' 


t.IPE  O0 


'•■>-V]i^\ 


X 


'i'^y 


K- 


> . 


^    ■About  planting  time,  our  Indians  all  went  up  to 

Fort  Pitt,  to  make  peace  with  the  British,  and  took 

me  with  them.*    We  landed  on  the  opposite  side 

;    0f  the  river  from  th«  fort,  and  encamped  for  the 

^''  flight.  Early  the  next  morning  the  Indians  took 
me  over  to  the  fort  to'  j^ee  the  white  people  that 
wer^  there.  It  was  then  that  my  5ieart  bounded  to 
be  liberated  from  the  Indians  aifd  to  be  restored  to 
my  friends  and  my  country.  The  white  people 
were  surprized  to  see  me  with  the  Indians,  enduring 
the  hardships  of  a  savage  iife,  at  so  e«rly  an  age, 
id  with  so  delicate  a  constitution  as  I  appeared  to 
^  jssess.  They  asked  me  my  name;  where  and 
when  I  was  taken— -and  appeared  very  much  inter- 
ested on  my  behalf.  They  were  continuing  their 
inqotries,  when  my  sisters  became  alarmed,  believ- 

'^  ing  that  I  should  be  taken  IVom  them,  hurried  me 
into  their  caiioe  and  recrossed  the  river — took  dieif 
bread  out  of  the  fire  and  fled  with  me,  without 
stopping,  till  they  arrived  at  the  river  Shenanjee. 
So  great  was  their  fear  of  losing  mqi,  or  of  my  being 
given  Uf  jn  the  treaty,  tliat  they  never  once  stopped 

.  Fowing  till  they  got  home. 

i;  Shortly  after  we  left  the  shore  opposite  tlie  fort, 
!^  ^ai  I  was  informed  by  one  of  my  Indian  brothers, 
the  white  people  came  over  to  take  me  back ;  but 
after  considerable  inquiry,  and  having  made  dili- 
gent search  to  find  where  I  was  hid,  they  returned 
with  heavy  hearts.     Although  I  had  then  been 

*  History  is  silent  as  to  any  treaty  having  been  made  be- 
tween the  English,  f'-^H  French  and  Indians,  at  that  time; 
though  it  is  possible  «  at  a  truce  was  agreed  upon,  and  th<rt 
the  parties  met  for  the  purpose  of  coocluding  a  treaty  of 
peace.        \    ■   i^,  /-■-:,  :■.}■    ^-^t 


't 


:% 


went  up  td 
'ij  and  took 
>posif,e  side 
>ed  for  the 
<^ians  took 
eople  that 
•ounded  to 
•estored  to 
te  people 
\  enduring 
y  an  age, 
peared  to 
here  and 
«ch  inter- 
>»ng  their 
h  believ- 
fried  me 
ook  their 
without 
snanjee. 
Jy  bemg 
stopped 


MARY  JEMIBON. 


44 


[with  the  Indians  something  over  a  year,  and  had 
become  considerably  habituated  to  their  mode  of 
living,  and  attached  to  my  sisters,  the  sight  of  white 
[people  who  could  speak  English  inspired  me  with 
an  unspeakable  anxiety  to  go  home  with  them^and 
share  in  the  blessings  of  civilization.  IMy  sudden 
departure  and  escape  from  them,  seemed  like  a 
second  captivity,  and  for  a  long  time  I  brooded  the 
thoughts  of  my  miserable  situation  with  almost  as 
much  sorrow  and  dejection  as  I  had  done  those  of 
my  firsj:  sufferings.  Time,  the  destroyer  of  every 
anection,  wore  away  my  unpleasant  feelings,  and  I 
became  as  contented  as  before. 

We  tended  our  cornfields  through  the  summer ; 
and  after  we  had  harvested  the  crop,  we  again  went 
down  the  river  to  the  hunting  ground  on  the  Sciota,   . 
whefo  we  spent  the  winter,  as  we  had  done  the  W 
winter  oefbre.  ^fw  %^;i 

Early  in  the  spring  we  sailed  up  the  Ohio  river, 
to  a  place  that  the  Lndians  called  Wiishto,*  where 
one  river  emptied  into  the  Ohio  on  one  side,  and 
another  on  the  other.  At  that  f^lace  the  JncUans 
built  a  town,  and  we  planted  corR. 

We  lived  three  summers  at  Wiishto,  atid  spent 
each  winter  on  the  Sciota.  4 

The  first  summer  of  our  living  at  Wiishto,  a 
party  of  Delaware  Indians  came  up  the  river,  took 
up  their  reiidence,  and  lived  in  common  with  us. 
They  brought  five  white  prisoners  with  them,  who 
by  their  conversation,  made  itiy  situation  much 

■*  Wiishto  I  suppose  was  situated  near  the  mouth  of 
Indian  Guyundat,  827  miles  below  Pittsburgh,  and  73  above 
Big  Sciota;  or  at  the  mouth  of  Swan  creek,  307  miles  below 
Pittsburgh. 


*. 


.  V 


■  /> 


,?A' 


'.*<  :■ 


:vi. 


^, 


■^   ^^A>^* 


UFE  oy 


•  u/f  ^■ 


hrfudsome,  good  natured  ^Kw     ^^  *^'' »  ^"y 
after  she  came  to  \Viishto  [n  r    "'"".'"arried  soon 
"nde,  who  went  S' her  on  f"^*-  ^'"'«  fi"'yV 
n  the  states.    Having  t^^led  w.);''!!*''  ^'''  ''"«nds 
she  wished  to,  she  rfturnp,!    ^u'*  .*'"""  »'  '""g  as 

Can-a-ah-tua/where  hIdS  ""t'^'ft  ''r"""^*" 
*s      married  a  white  man  bv  /h^      "*'  "**«•■  ^is  death, 

now  lives  with  him  ("fThfj:  ,"2",'*  ^««'«.  and 
«,  Upper  Canada.  "^'"«^)  «"»  Grand  Riv- 

Not  long  after  thn  ifiJ*  ' »  " 
"«,  «  ^"'^'Ho/my  ^t^'^'fj^  ««•-«  to  Ii.o  with 
and  live  with  one  of  them    1'"^  ""^^  '  "»'■«  go 
"Wee.    Not  darinrt   cros,  t^.    '^  "T«  *a.  She- 
commands,  with  a  ffreat  1    *'"'*"■ '''^"''ey  their 
went;  andSheniniee^^i^^'^''  »'  reluctance  I 
to  ^.dian  cnsS. -^       "'' '  *"'^  ™«™d  accor^W 
^  Slieniiyee  was  a  nohl«  «. *^-7  *^'  -'    ~   • 
elegant  in  hi,  appe^Z!  ^™'-  'arge  i„  atature'; 
fo^ageous  i„  w^ra"r1enf  ,""''"''*"'''' '^""duct 
'over  of  justice.     HesuS  '.?  l^^^^'  and  a  grea' 
far  above  his  rank,  a^d^Sj  '^'f'  "'"^'Jnity 
confidence  and  friendshr^f    if "?  '^'"'^^^  thl 
*JK,m  he  was  acquainted'^  vL^'^J''^.  '"^^'  «'th 
Indian.     The  idea  of  pendilr'^''!"'"^^  '^as  an 
at  first  seemed  perfeMlv  v     *^  '">'  ^ays  with  him 

and  /riendshipSo":Xme  ZlT'"''  *^"'<«^"«i 
tion  ;  and,  strange  as  it?„  '  ^"  ^^^'ncd  my  affec- 
To  me  he'was  "K  i^d  bf '-T'  ^  '•'^^'^  '''>""- 
treated  me  with  irentl^ '"  "■'"r''  «"<»  al«vays 
agreeable  hiisbandfand  "?'  r'"  ^f''  ^e  was  an 
t.  s-,j''5:;  fl"'^''"''  «  comfortable  companion! 

■  ■  1  '  ■       'm^\   '     ■  '  ■    ■     i  -     ■' 


MARY  JEMISON. 


45 


English. 
|em  except 
was  a  very  I 
arried  80011, 
tie  BiUy's 
ler  friends 
as  Jong  as 
"sband  to 
'^w  death, 
F'es,  and 
rand  Riy. 


We  lived  happily  together  til)  the  time  of  our  final 
separation,  which  happened  two  or  three  year^^tec 
our  marriage,  as  I  shall  presently  relate.   '    "^  '^v*'  * 

In  the  second  summer  of  my  living  at  Wiishto, 
I  had  a  child  at  the  time  that  the  kemeb  of  corn 
first  appeared  on  the  cob.  When  I  was  taken  sick, 
Sheninjee  was  absent,  and  I  was  sent  to  a  small 
shed,  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  which  was  made  of 
boughs,  where  I  was  obliged  to  stay  till  my  husband 
returned.  My  two  sisters,  who  were  my  only  com- 
panions, attended  me,  and  on  the  second  day  of 
my  confinement  my  child  was  born ;  but  it  lived 
only  two  days.  It  was  a  girl :  and  notwithstanding 
the  shortness  of  the  time  that  I  possessed  it,  it  was 
a  great  grief  to  me  to  lose  iti^  '^"^t;  -^T'^^-- 

After  the  birth  of  ray  child,  I  was  very  sick,  but 
was  not  allowed  to  go  into  the  house  for  two  weeks; 
when,  to  my  great  joy,  Sheninjee  returned,  and  I 
was  taken  in  and  as  comfortably  provided  for  as 
our  situation  would  admit  of.  My  disease  contin- 
ued to  increase  for  a  number  of  days ;  and  I  became 
so  far  reduced  that  my  recovery  was  despaired  of 
by  my  friends,  and  I  f<!ncludei  that  my  troubles 
would  soon  be  finished.  At  length,  however,  my 
complaint  took  a  favorable  turn,  and  by,the  time 
that  the  corn  was  ripe  I  was  able  to  get  about.  I 
continued  to  gain  m^  health,  and  in  the  fall  was 
able  to  go  to  our  Wmter  quarters,  on  the  Sciota, 
with  the  Indians. 

From  that  time,  nothing  remarkable  occurred  to 
me  till  the  fourth  winter  of  my  captivity,  when  I 
had  a  son  born,  while  I  was  at  Sciota :  I  had  a 
quick  recovery,  and  my  child  was  healthy.  To 
commemorate  the  name  of  my  much  lamented 
father,  I  called  my  son  Thomas  Jemison. 


MBitt 


ilil 


iUfa 


iukirmtti,:  111  ii;"ifii 


y^;«i.,Jf^ 


"S"^ 


-'■:.  *» ' 


vv- 


?; 


.^'K>.j*S»-       "'i^j' 


tiFE  OP 


■  '.4 


'-ti^   •  v' 


:>^'' 


CHAPTER  iv! 


>: 


I  •■..j;. 


«^'^7  >','•' 


::#lw  leaves  Wiishto  for  Fort  Pi»  '  ' "     ^   '^  -^'^^ 
,;  f  Husband — Her  fepliL/         ' '"  ''"'npany  with  h^, 

I  Deficiencv  of  Art.  a^„:^'fC,i»»dian  Women  !!' 

.J  mer  Happiness.-Banennlff '"'''*"'— Tbeir  for- 

^Kltheintroduetioroft^   *ff««f*.of  Civifeat5 

Trading  Houfe     w''-*^'''   H»«band  stoos^""- 
Move^  ,,„  .r    o~^a'«<»nness  of  the  Sk.   '^    *'  " 

jioves  up  the  Sandusltv  _lvl„„t;^,      *'***°ee» 

«e-Dishia-u Her  Hm.k     j    ®**  ''«'■  Brother  from 

»he  ,ets  our  for  Geni"  ±n    e°^'  '°  Wiishto,  a„d 

thers._Tbey  arrive  at  si,,^P^"y  "■'">  her  Bro: 

hat  Piace.-4aer  XurLft^'^Ge^^rO'^eurrencef^ 

»'«n  bj-  her  Mother  anS  Friends      "*"'  ^""^  **««?- 

In  the  sprint,  whpn  Ti,  ^V'^*!)^^       •; 

2^"?hto,  and  soin  after  set   '"T*"  «•««"  S^i^'a  to 

o  dispose  of  our  fur  and  *kin,  i"  «"  *°  ^"«  ««, 

•n  the  winter,  and  procure       '  *•*  ''"*'  *«''en 

for  the  use  of  oaUmUy  "^"'"'""^  ««'^J« 

«nd  ieave  themfhadalLoS^''!  '"  « liberty,' 
«as  my  home ;   my  femUv  1  if  "**•    ""'"'  the™ 
h«d  many  frie,  ds"^  Sif  t    '  '^^'^'  «"''  f'^re  I 
^n. consideration  of  the  fr„rl    ^  "'"'"''•^  »«acbed 
ship  with  which  thevhad  M"^f    ^*"'°"  ^""^  '"'''■«"«'■ 
the  time  of  my  aSS    o  T^^  ''«'"««*  ™e,from 
a«J  that  of  one  J^Kas  e2artr^"'''"'r""*««^'" 
.  '^'"^'^«"'y  similar,  in  almost 


.  '■* 


■^.'T.,;-^:  .■'I   ,  MARY  JEMISON.    -     '  ^:  '--■^ 

[every  respect,  lo  that  of  the  others,  without  that 
endless  variety  that  is  to  be  observed  in  the  com- 
mon  labor  of  the  white  people.  Notwithstanding 
the  Indian  women  have  all  the  fuel  and  bread  to 
procure,  and  the  cooking  to  perform,  their  task  is 
I  probably  not  harder  than  that  of  white  women, 
who  have  those  articles  provided  for  them ;  and 
their  cares  certainly  are  not  half  as  numerous,  nor 
as  great.  Id  the  summer  season,  we  planted, 
tended  and  harvested  our  corn,  and  generally  had 
all  our  children  with  us ;  but  had  no  master  to 
oversee  or  drive  us,  so  that  we  could  work  as  leis- 
urely as  we  pleased.  We  had  no  ploughs  on  the 
Ohio;  but  performed  the  whole  process  of  plant- 
ing and  hoeing  with  a  small  tool  that  resembled, 
in  some  respects,  a  hoe  with  a  vet'y  short  handle. 

Our  cooking  consisted  in  pounding  our  corn  into 
samp  or  hommany,  boiling  the  hommany,  making 
now  and  then  a  cake  and  baking  it  in  the  ashes,  and 
in  boiling  or  roasting  our  venison.  As  our  cooking 
and  eating  oteBsils  consisted  of  a  hommany  bipck 
and  pestle,  a  Small  kettle,  a  knife  or  two,  and  a 
few  vessels  of  h^  or  wood,  it  required  but  little 
time  to  keep  them  in  order  for  use. 

Spinning,  weaving,  tewing,  stocking  knitting, 
and  the  like,  are  arts  which  have  never  beiib  prac- 
tised in  the  Indian  tribes  generally.  After  the  re- 
rolutionary  war,  I  learned  to  sew,  so  that  I  could 
make  my  own  clothing  after  a  poor  fasliion;  but 
the  other  domestic  arts  I  have  been  wholly^igno- 
rant  of  the  application  of,  since  n^y  captivity.  In 
the  season  of  hunting,  it  was  our  business,  in  ad- 
dition4o  our  cooking,  to  bring  home  the  game 
that  was  taken  by  the  Indians^  dreis  it,  and  care- 


'■ .  H.'i 


■t 


iiMii 


liiHilii 


■MH 


\  ■  ■  ■ 
I 


■'i^-. 


LIFE  OP    i^f 


"""'r?  ^ 


n  ' 


fully  preserve  the  eatable  meat,  and  prepare  or  I 
dress  the  skins.  Our  clothing  was  fastened  together 
with  strings  of  deer  skin^  and  tied  on  with  the 
same.  . 

In  that  manner  we  lived,  without  a  ly  of  those 
jealousies, quarrels,  and  revengeful  battles  between 
families  and  individuals,  whU;h  have  been  com- 
mon in  the  Indian  tribes  since  the  introduction  of' 
ardent  spirits  amongst  them.   \ 

The  use  of  ardent  spirits  amongst  the  Indians, 
and  the  attempts  which  have  been  made  to  civilize 
and  christianize  them  by  the  white  people,  l^s 
constantly  made  them  worse  and  worse;  in- 
creased their  vices,  and  robbed  them  of  many  of  | 
their  virtues;  and  will  ultimately  produce  their 
extermination.  I  have  seen,  in  a  number  of  in- 
stances, the  effects  of  education  upon  some  of  our 
Indians,  who  were  taken  when  young,  from 
their  fanalies,  and  placed  at  school  before  they 
liad  had  an  opportunity  to  contract  many  ludian 
habits,  and  there  kept  till  they  z.xt0^  to  manhood ; 
but  I  have  never  seen  one  of  thoslt^t  what  was  an 
Indian  in  e:^e^ry  respect  aflerHe  returned.  Indians 
ymustand  will  be  Indians^  in  spite  of  all  the  means 
that  can  be  used  for  the^ 'cultivation  in  the  scien- 
ces ani  arts. 

One  thing  only  marred  my  happiness,  while  I 
lived  with  them  on  the  Ohio;*  and  that  was  the 
recollection  that  I  had  once  had  tender  parents^ 
and  a  home  that  I  loved.  Aside  from  that  consid- 
eration, or,  if  I  had  been  taken  in  infancy,  I 
should  have  been  contented  in  my  situation.  Not« 
withstanding  f^rthat  has  been  said  agains^e  In- 
4ians^  in  conjiii|uence  of  their  cruelties  to  their 

■-•'■    ■•  y  '  r-,'7'.  -;■  ■ 


*>•-•' 


,:-^- 


i.hC^ 


.•^•■:t.  v.. 


■^luSi'G'^  MARY  JEMISON. 

enemies — cruelties  that  I  have  witnelsed,  and  had 
abundant  proof  of— it  is  a  fact  that  they  are  na-  ' 
turally  kind,  tender  and  peaceable  towards  their 
friends,  and  strictly  honest;  and  that  those  cruel- 
ties have  been  practised,  only  upon  their  enemiesi 
according  to  their  idea  of  justice. 

At  the  time  we  leQ^  Wiishto,  it  was  impossible 
for  me  to  suppress  a  Mi  of  regret  on  parting  with 
those  who  had  truly  been  my  friends— with  those 
whom  I  hftd  every  reason  to  respect.  On  account 
of  a  part  of  our  family  living  at  Genishau,  we 
thought  itjdoubiful  whether  we  should  return  di- 
rectly from  Pittsbjirgh,  or  go  from  thence  on  a 
visit  to  see  them.  .  ., 

Our  company  consisted  of  Itny  husband,  my 
two  Indian  brothers,  my  little  son  and  myself. 
We  embarked  ik  a  canoe  that  was  large  enough  to 
contain  ourselves  and  our  effects,  and  proceeded 
on  our  voyage  up  the  river. ^ 

Nothing  re&i^able  occurred  to  us  on  our  way, 
till  wearrived  at  |he  mputh  of  a  creek  which  She- 
ninjee  and  my  brotli^  said  was  the  outlet  of  San- 
dusky lake;  where,  a^  they  said,  two  or  three 
Ergfish  traders  in  fur  und^^s^ins  had  kept  a  trading 
house  but  a  short  time  Befbre,  though  tliey  were 
then  absent.  We  had  passed'it^''  trading  hpuse 
but  a  short  distance,  >  when  wc  :jet  three  white 
men  floating  down  the  river,  wit!5|the  appearance 
of  having  been  recently  murdered ^y  the  Iq^dians. 
We  supposed  them  to  be  the  bodies^of  the  traders, 
whose  store  we  bad  passed  the  same  day.  Shenin- 
jee  be«^g  alarmed  for  fear  of  being  i^pprehended  as 
one  of  tlie  murderers,  if  he  shoukL^  on,  resolved 
to  put  about  immediately y  and  we  accordingly  re- 


5f-.'^ 


-,V 


■+v" 


£ 


.'TMli'%^, 


mi 


^^ttyw 


50 


LIFE  OF 


%.sC 


'•.~'r  .^ 


'",» 


SI. 


■i\,  ■  .; 


i1 


41' 


.'-i 


turned  to  where  the  traders  had  lived,  and  there 
landed. 

At  the  trading  house  we  found  a  party  of  Shaw- 
nee Iidians,  who  had  taken  a  young  white  man 
prisoner,  and  had  just  begun  to  torture  him  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  gratkying  their  curiosity  in  exult- 
ing at  his  distress.  They  at  first  made  him  stand 
up,  while  they  slowly  pared  his  ears  and  split  them 
into  strings;  they  then  made  a  number  of  slight 
incisions  in  his  face;  and  then  bound  him  upon 
the  ground,  rolled  him  in  the  dirt,  and  rubbed  it  in 
his  wounds :  some  of  them  at  the  same  time  whip- 
ping him  with  small  rods!  The  poor  fellow  cried 
for  mercy  and  yelled  most  piteously. 

The  sight  of  his  distress  seemed  too  much  for 
n*  to  endure :  I  begged  of  th*  ^'  to  desist — I  en- 
treated them  with  tears  to  rele;  Sim.  At  length 
they  attended  to  rny  intercessions;  ?ind  set  him  at 
liberty.  He  was  sliockingly  disfigured,  bled  pro- 
fusely^ and  appeared  to  b^  in  great  pain:  but  as 
soon  as  he  was  liberated  he  made  dijrin  haste,  which 
was  the  last  I  saw  of  him.  , 

We  soon  learned  that  tlie  same  party  of  Shaw- 
nees  had,  but  a  few  ho^  before,  massacred  the 
three  white  traders  whom  we  saw  in  the  river,  and 
had  plundered  their  store.  We,  however,  were 
not  molested  by  th^m,  and  after  a  s^hortstay  at  that 
place,  moved  up  the  creek  about  forty  miles  to  a 
Shf»wnee  town,  which  the  Indians  called  Gaw- 
gush4haw-ga,  (which  being  interpreted  signifies  a 
mask  or  a  false  face.)  The  crqel^  that  we  went 
lip  was  calledtCandusky.  r^  - 

It  was  nowaummer;  and  having  tarried  a  few 
days  at  Gawgushsh^w|^  jf|^$^  the 


."^^ 


f  ■% 


4*f  p 


-/.«*' 


H'. 


■  !• 


♦  Mary  jemison. 


51 


creek  to  a  place  that  was  called  Yis-kah-wa-na, 
(meaning  in  English  open  mouth.) 

As  I  have  before  observed,  the  family  to  which 
I  belonged  was  part  of  a  tribe  of  Seneca  Indians, 
who  lived)  at  that  time,  at  a  place  called  Genishau, 
from  the  name  of  the  tribe,  that  was  situated  on  a 
river  of  the  same  name  which  is  now  caUed  Genesee. 
The  word  Genishau  iignifies  a  shining,  clear  or 
open  place.  Those  of  us  who  lived  on  the  Ohio^ 
had  frequently  received  invitations  from  those  at 
Genishau,  by  one  of  my  brothers,  who  usually  went 
and  returned  every  season,  to  come  and  live  with 
them,  and  ray  two  sisters  had  been  gone  almost 
two  years. 

While  we  were  at  Yiskahwana,  my  brother 
arrived  there  from  Genishau,  and  insisted  so  stren- 
uously upon  our  going  home  (as  he  called  it)  with 
him,  that  my  twu  brothers  coQcluded  to  go,  and  to 
take  me  with  them.       'N^    '^• 

By  this  time  the  summer  was  gone,  and  the  time 
for  harvesting*cdrn  had  arrived.  My  brothers,  for 
fear  of  the  rainy  season  setting  in  early,  thought  it 
best  to  set  out  immediately  that  we  might,  have 
good  travelling.  Sheninjee  consented  to  have  me 
go  with  my  brothers;  but  concluded  to  go  down 
the  river  himself  with  some  fur  and  M^ins  which  he 
had  on  hand,  spend  the  winter  in  hunting  with  his 
friends,  and  come  to  me  in  the  spring  following. 

That  was  accordingly  agreed  upon,  and  he  set 
out  for  Wiishto;  and  my  three  brothers  and  my- 
self, with  my  little  son  on  my  back,  at  the  same 
time  set  out  for  Genishau.  We  ^awe  on  to  Upper 
Sandusky,  to  an  Indian  town  that  wefound  deserted 
by  ite  jip[habji|SiDt$,  i»  consequence  of  their  having 


LIFE  OP  /  w 


^K' 


■'  '-V^.f 


r  .>- 


1 


iii 


im 


Recently  murdered  p  >iiie  English  traders,  who  re- 
sided amongst  them.     That  town  was  owned  and 
had  been  occupied  by  Delaware  Indians,  who,  when 
they  left  it,  buried  their  provision  in  tlie  earth,  in 
otJc:''  to  preserve  it  from  their  enemies,  or  to  have 
a  supply  for  themselves  if  they  should  chance  to 
return.    My  brothers  mijerstood  the  customs  of 
the  Indians  when  they  were  obliged  to  fly  from 
^their  enemies ;  and  suspecting  that  their  corn  at 
feast  n^ust  have  been  hid,  made  diligent  search, 
and  at  length  found  a  large  quantity  of  i^,  together 
with  bean^,  sugar  and  honey,  so  carefully  buried 
thatifwiis  completely  dry  and  aai  good  as  whea 
ihey  left  it.    As  our  stock  of  provision  was  scanty, 
we  considered  ourselves  extremely  f^nunate  in 
iinding^so  seasonable  a  supply,  with  so  little  trouble. 
Having  caught  two  or  three  horses,  that  w^  fo*m^ 
there^  and  furnlslied  o  Jrselves  with  a  good  store  o 
tfood,  wt  travelled  on  till  we  came  to  the  mouth  ol 
French  Cre6k,  where  we  bunted  two  f^^ij^^  and 
frofei  thence  came  on  to  CoBowoijgo  Creek,  where 
we  were  obliged  to  stay  seven  or  ten  days,  in  eon- 
sequcince  of  our  horses  havmg  ?fft  us  and  straying 
into  |le  woods.    The  ho?:s€!':3 ;,  however,  were  tbu  nd  ^ 
,'and  4e  again  prepareid  to  refeurae  our  jowriney- 
During  our  stay  at  tf^iat  place  the  raiq  fell  i^.s%  mid 
had  raised  the  cree^k  to  such  a  height  that  it  wa» 
seemingly  in^pos^bJe  for  us  to  cross  it*  ■   A  ji^irwber 
of  tunes  we  ventured  in,,  but  were  coropelkd  to 
return,  barely  'leaping  with  our  lives*    At  kogtii 
we  succeeded  m  swimming  our  hordes  and  reached 
the  opposite  dmfe]  though  I  but  just  escapefi:  with 
my  little  boy  from  being  d rowned.    FmmBsiiMmky 
the  path  that  we  travelled  was  crooked  and  obacwre; 


''S, 


■ /'•  /,'>'■■      ■ 


i^r' 


V 

c] 
el 

cl 


<M 


'7< 


MARY  JEMISON. 


•*{■ 


.4  .vfiS' 

5S 


but  was  tolerably  well  understood  by  my  oTdeCT 
brother,  who  had  travelled  it  a  number  of  times, 
when  going  to  and  returning  from  the  Cherokee 
wars.  The  fall  by  this  time  was  considerably  ad- 
vanced, and  the  rainn,  atte^ided  with  cold  winds, 
continued  daily  to  increase  the  difficulties  of  trav- 
elling. From  Coaowongo  we  came  to  a  place, 
called  by  the  Indians  Che-ua-8hung-g.«u-tau^  and 
from  that  to  U-qa-waum-gwa,  (which  means  an 
eddy,  not  strong,)  where  the  early  frosts  had  de- 
strayed"  tjie  corn  so  that  the  Indians  were  in  danger 
of  starving  for  ihe  want  of  bread.  HaVinj;  rested 
ourselves  two  days  at  that  place,  we  cam'}  on  to 
Ganeadea  ahJ  stayed  one  day,  and  then  coni^nued 
our  march  till  we  arrived  at  Genishau.  '  Gehishau 
at  that  time  was  §  hrge  l^eneca  town,  thickly  in- 
habited, lying  ori  Genc^see  river,  opposite  v  hat  is 
>^ow  called  the  Free  Ferry,  adjoining  Fall-tkpok, 
and  about  south  west  of  the  present  village  of  Oen- 
eseoj  the  county  seat  for  the  county  of  Livingston, 
m  till*  stale  of  New- York. 

Those  only  who  have  travelled  on  foot  the 
distance  of  five  or  six  hundred  miles,  through  an 
almost  pathless  wilderness,  can  form  an  idea  of  the 
fatigue  and  sulFerings  that  I  endured  on  thai  jour- 
ney. My  clothing  was  t*^in  and  illy  calculated  to 
defend  irie  from  the  cr 71  tinually  drenching  rains 
wiUi  which  I  was  daily  completely  wet,  and  at  night 
with  fM)thing  but  ray  wet  bla*^ket  to  cover  nie,  I 
had  co  fjleep  on  the  naked  ground^  and  g^  lereilly 
withowt  a  shelter,  save  such  as  nat^e  had  provided. 
Ir)  addition  to  all  that,  1  had  %0  carry  my  child, 
then  :%h(.mt  rjine  months  old,  every  step  of  the 
journey  on  my  back,  or  in  my  arms,  and  provide 

E2 


■■M 


-; 


vXiiitili«BMtaii(MuM<Miaww«>«ai««i«^ 


m 


■;•*»■■ 


54 


LIFE  Of 


W' 


»!»^.. 


-  f 


for  his  comfort  and  prevent  his  sofTering^  as  far  as 
my  poverty  of  means  would  admit.  Such  was  the 
fatigue  that  I  sometimes  feh,  that  I  thought  it  im- 
possible for  me  to  go  through,  and  I  would  almost 
abandon  the  idea  of  even  trying  to  proceed.  My 
brothers  were  attentive,  iiiid  at  length,  as  I  have 
stated,  we  reached  our  platte  of  destination,  in  good 
health,  and  witl^out  having  experienced  a  day's 
sickness  from  the  time  we  left  Yiskahwanr*. 

We  were  kindly  received  by  my  Indian  mother 
and  the  other  meml>ers  of  the  family,  who  appear-t 
edto  make  me  welcome ;  and  my  two  sisters,  whom 
I  had  not  seen  in  two  years,  received  me  with  every 
expression  of  love  and  friendship,  and  that  ihejr 
really  felt  what  they  expressed,  I  have  never  had 
the  (east  reason  to  doubt*  The  warmth  of  their 
feelings,  the  kind  reception  which  1  met  witH»Bnd 
the  continued  favors  that  I  received  g.  their  hands, 
rivetted  my  affection  for  them  so  strongly  that  I 
am  constrained  to  believe  that  I  loved  them  as  I 
should  have  loved  my  own  sister  hdd  she  lived,  and 
1  had  been  brought  up  with  her. 


■%l  CJ^PTER  y. 


Indians  march  to  Niagara  to  fight  the  British. — Return 
.with  two  Pri§oners,  ^c. — Sacrifice  tfiiem  at  Fall- 
*^Brook. — Her  iiadian  Mother's  Address  to  her  Daugh- 
ter.— Death  of  her  Hnsbandr — Bounty  offered  for  the 
Prisoners  takcp  in  the  last  war. — John  Van  Sice 
attempts  to  take  her  to  procure  her  Ransom. — &(t 
Escape. — EcUct  of  the  Chiefs. — Old  King  of  the  tribe 


'■>.-^^>''^- 


■^i£-J: 


JEMISON. 


S'*  »- 


"<  M. 


H 


.  .  .  ^  ■■  /ji  ■■.-■''    . 

determines  to  have  her  given  up. — Mer  brother  threat- 
ens her  Life.-T-Her  narrow  Escape — The  old  King 
goes  off. — Her  brother  is  informed  of  the  place  of  her 
concealment,  and  conducts  her  home. — ^Marriage  to 
her  second  Husband.— Names  oi  her  Children. 

When  we  arrived  at  (Jenishau,  the  Indians  of 
that  tribe  were  making  active  preparation  for 
joining  the  French,  in  order  to  assist  them  in  re- 
taking Fort  Ne-a^aw  (as  Fort  Niagara  was  called 
in  the  Seneca  language)  from  the  British^  who  had 
taken  it  from  the  French  in  the  month  pipecedinr. 
They  marched  off  the  next  day  after  our  arrive.!, 
painted  and  accoutred  in  all  the  habiliments  of 
Indian  warfare,  determined  on  death  or  victory^ 
and  joined  the  army  jn  season  to  assist  in  accom- 
plishiiig  a  plan  that  had  been  previously  concerted 
for  the  destruction  of  a  part  of  the  British  army. 
The  British  feeling  themselves  s€Scnre  in  tWi  pos- 
session of  Fort  Neaga-  and  unwilling  that  their 
enemies  should  occupy  f  the  military  f  a 

thai  quarter^  determined  to  ^  Fort  Schiusser, 
lying  a  few  miles  up  the  river  iror  Neagi  v,  which 
they  expected  tQ  effect  with  but  little  loss.  Ac^ 
cordingly  a  detachment  of  soldiers,  ufficiently 
numerous,  as  was  supposed,  was  sent  o  i  to  take  it, 
leaving  a  strong  garrison  in  the  fort,  and  marched 
off,  well  prepared  to  effect  tHeir  object  'lut  on 
their  way  they  were  surrounded  by  the  i  <»ch  and 
Indians,  who  lay  in  ambush  to  receive  them,  and 
were  driven  off  the  bank  of  the  river  into  a  place 
calle4  the  "  Devil's  Hole,"  together  with  their  hor- 
ses, carriages,  artillery,  and  every  thing  pertaining 
to  the  army.  Not  a  single  man  escaped  being 
driven  off,  and  of  the  whole  number  one  only  was 


f^agmtU 


riiMI 


!•'! 


7 


;V, 


ft  • 


56    ,,:y(^"  LIFE  OF   .       •:,W:€.'^-"<A 

fortunate  enough  to  escaij^e  with  n!s  lae5  Our 
Indians  were  absent  but  a  few  days,  and  returned 
in  triumph,  bringing  w^h  them  two  white  prisoners, 
and  a  number  of  oxen.  Those  were  the  first  neat 
cattle  that  were  ever  brought  to  the  Genesee  flats. 

The  next  day  after  their  return  to  Genishau,  was 
set  apart  as  a  day  of  feasting  and  frolicing,  at  the 
^pence  of  the  lives  f]f  ^tbeir  two  unfortunate  pris- 
oners, on  whom  they  purposed  to  gliit  their  revenge, 
and  jwatisfy  their  love  for  retaliation  upon  their 
enemies.  My  sister  was  anxious, to  attend  the 
execution,  and  to  take  me  with  her,  to  witness  th|B 
customsoftiie  warriors^  as  itwasone  of  the  highest 
kind  of  frolics  ever  celebrated  in  their  tribe,  an|i 
one  ^lat  was  hot  often^ctended  with  so  much  ponip 
and  parade  as  it  was  expected  that  would  b0.  1 
felt  a  kind  of  anxiety  to  witness  the  scene,  Mavihg 
nevfc^  attended  ati  execuiiun,  and  yet  I  felt  a  kind 
of  horrid  dread  that  made  my  heart  revolt,  and 
incfiE^  me  to  step  back  rather  than  support  the 
idea  of  advancing.  Ou  the  moniiiVg  of  the  execu- 
tion she  made  her  intention  of  going  to  the  frolic, 
and  taking  me  with  her,  l^nown  toour  mother,  who 
in  the  most  feeling  teims  remonstrated  against  a 
step  at  once  so  rash  ancf  unbecoming  the  true  dig- 
nity of  oui  sex :     V 

"How,  my  dau|4|er,  (said  she,  addressing  my 
sister,)  how  can  yOti  <feven  think  of  attending  the 
feast  and  seeing  the  unspeakable  torments  that 
thos«3  poor  unfortunate  prisoners  must  inevitably 
sufter  from  the  hands  of  4ur  warriors  ?  How  caii 
you  staiid  and  see  thei  .  writhing  in  the  warriors' 
fire,  in  all  the  a|pnies  oi  a  slow,  a  lingering  death  ? 

^For  the  particulars  of  'hat  event,  see  Appendix,  No.  1. 


:  :^  x^-^',^:: . mart  jemison.  ., .  ■■■■. ^- -iy^'t? 

How  Cttii  you  think  of  enduring  the  sound  of  their 
groanings  and  prayers  to  the  Great  Spirit  for  sud* 
den  deliverance  from  their  enemies,  or  from  life  ? 
And  how  can  you  think  of  conducting  to  that 
:T»elancholy  spot  your  poor  sister  Dickewamis, 
(meaning  myself,)  who  has  so  lately  been  a  prison* 
er,  who  has  lost  her  parents  and  brothers  by  the 
hands  of  the  bloody  warriors,  and  who  has  felt  all 
the  horrors  of  the  loss  of  her  freedom,  in  lonesome 
captivity  ?  Oh  I  Jlow  can  you  think  of  making  her 
bleed  at  the  wounds  which  now  are  but  partially 
hsal^  ?  The  recoll^tion  of  her  former  troubles 
would  d«^prtve  us  of  Diqkewamis,  and  she  would 
depart  to  the  fields  of  the  blessed,  where  fighting 
has  ceased,  and  the  corn  needs  no  teiiding — where 
hunting  is  easy,  the  forests  delightfulfthe  summers 
wte  pleasant,  and  the  winters  are  mild!— O!  think 
once,  my  daughter,  how  soon  you  may  |if|ye  a 
brave  brother  made  prisoner  i.i  ba ale,  and  sf  CFt||ced 
to  feast  the  ambition  of  the  enemies  of  his  kindred, 
and  leave  us  to  mourn  for  the  loss  of  a  friend,  a 
S3n  and  a  brother,  whose  bow  brought  us  venison, 
and  supphed  us  with  blankets  .'--^Our  task  is  quite 
easy  at  home,  and  our  business  needs  o  jr  attention. 
With  war  we  have  nothing  to  do :  our  husbat)^ 
and  brothers  are  prOvJ  to  defend  us,  and  tl^ir^ 
hearts  beat  with  ardor  to  nf^et  our nprou^^ foes* 
Oh !  stay  then,  my  daughter ;  let  our  warriors  lilone 
perform  on  their  victims  their  c^itoms  of  war  J" 

This  speech  of  our  mother  had  the  desired  effect; 
we  stayed  at  home  and  attended  to  our  domestic 
concerns.  The  prisoners,  however,  were  executed 
by  having  their  heads  taken  off,  tht'tr  bodies  cut  in 
pieces  and  shockingly  mangled,  and  then  burnt  ;a 


-  -.1  ^ 


>  ■  ■ 


riMMHUHl 


m^ 


r'l^^^'Wff 


-■■    ---*■■* 


Ji 


-it 


58 


\fi*' 


>   /  ■ 

LIFE  C^^i 


•'v 


..^v 


♦♦■ 


ashes!— They  were  burnt  on  the  north  side  of 
Fall-brook,  directly  opposite  the  town  which  was 
on  the  south  side,  some  time  in  the  month  of  No- 
vember, 1759. 

I  spent  the  winter  comfortably,  and  as  agreeably 
as  I  could  have  expected  to,  in  the  absence  of  my 
kind  husband.  Sprir^  at  length  appeared,  but 
Sheninjee  was  yet  away ;  summer  came  on,  but 
my  husband  had  not  fotind  me.  Fearful  forebod- 
ings haunted  my  imagination ;  yet  1  felt  confident 
that  his  affection  for  me  was  so  great  that  if  he  was 
alive  he  would  follow  me  and  I  should  again  see 
him.  In  the  course  of  the  summer,  however,  1 
reqeived  intelligence  that  soon  afler  he  leA:  me  at 
Yiskahwana  he  was  taken  sick  and  died  at  Wiishto. 
This  Was  a  heavy  and  an  iinexpected  blow.  I  was 
now  in  my  youthful  days  left  a  widow,  with  one 
son,  m^  entirely  dependent  on  myself  for  his  and 
mV  jftupport.  My  mother  and  her  family  gave  me 
all  the  consolation  in  their  power,  and  in  a  few 
months  my  grief  wore  ofi*and  I  became  contented. 
^  ■  In  a  year  or  two  afler  this,  according  to  my  best 
recollection  of  the  time,  the  King  of  England 
oflTered  a  bounty  to  those  who  would  bring  in  the 
prisoners  that  had  been  taken  in  the  war,  to  some 
.^  mi!ita'*y  post  where  tb<ey  might  be  redeemed  and 
_  set  at  liberty:-^-  ^^^'pP  •  ■    ■^^^*  ^^■^^^^#" 

^  John  Van  Sice,  a  Dutchman,  who  had  frequently 
been  at  our  plaee,  and  was  well  acquainted  witrk 
every  prisoner  at  Genishau,  resolved  to  take  me  ta 
Niagara,  that  I  might  there  receive  my  liberty  and 
he  the  offered  bl^tinty.  I  was  notified  of  his  inten- 
tion ;  but  as  I  ytm  fully  determined  not  to  be  re- 
deemed at  that  timei  especially  wi|h  his  assistance^ 

,    '*"■.■    f^;    '-/ 


-r 


."i-v-* 


.1  n^" 


^ 


,?l^;ikIAjRJC.JEMISON. 


58^ 


I  carefully  watched  his  movements  in  order  to  avoid 
falling  into  his  hands.  It  so  happened,  howevefi 
that  he  saw  me  alone  at  work  in  a  corn-ileld,  and 
thinking  probably  that  he  could  secure  me  easily, 
ran  towaitls  me  in  great  haste.  I  espied  him  at 
some  distance,  and  well  knowing  the  amount  of  his 
errand,  run  from  hiip  wit|i  ^11  the  speed  I  was  mis- 
tress of,  and  never  once  stopped  till  I  reached 
Gardow**  He  gave  up  the  ch^se^,  and  returned: 
but  I,  fearing  t^at  he  might  be  lying  in  wait  for 
me,  stayed  three  days  and  three  nights  in  an  old 
cabin  at  Gardow,  and  then  went  back  trembliirg  at 
every  step  for  fear  of  being  apprehended.  I  got 
home  without  difHculty;  and  soon  after,  the  chiefs  in 
council  having  learned  the  cause  of  my  elopement, 
gave  orders  that  T  should  not  be  takej)  to  any  miU 
itary  post  without  my  consent;^  and  that  as  it  was 
my  choice  to  stay,  I  should  live  among^them 
quietly  and  undisturbed.  But,  notwithstan^ng  the 
will  of  the  chiefs/ it  was  but  a  few  days  befcre  the 
old  king  of  our  tribe  told  one  of  my  Indian  brothers 
that  I  should  be  redeemed,  and  he  would  take  r^e 
to  Niagara  himselfV  Ir  reply  to  the  old  Jiing,  my 
brother  said  that  |  should  not  be  given  up ;  but 
that,  as  it  was  my  wish,  I  should  stay  with  the  tribe 
as  long  as  1  was  pleased  to.  Upon  this  a  serious 
quarrel  ensued  between  them^  iu  which  my  brother 
frankly  told  him  that  sooner  than  I  should  be  taken 
by  force,  he  would  kill  me  with  his  own  hanrfs  !— 
Highly  enraged  at  the  old  king,  tny  brother  came 
to  my  sister^s  house,  wherel  re»H}ed,and  informed 
her  of  all  that  had  passed  respecting  me;  and  that, 

*l  have  given  this  orthography,  because  it  corresppnds 
with  the  popular  pronunciatiosi 

ll,  •     •.   ■•         -■■■'■'I"'"     V  ,'■■  'H  "      '-i^^* 


^  ■  ^.m 


1. 


yy^k- 


<^^ 


,  «iJi>*tfifc    1^ 


>- 


i 


•ft 


w^ 


y^wm 


m 


to^ 


Vl-.  ; 


LIFE  OF 


w 


if  the  old  king  should  attempt  to  take  me,  i^s  he 
fiiinly  believed  he  would,  he  would  immediately 
take  my  life,  and  hazard  the  consequefices.  He 
returned  to  the  old  king.  As  soon  as  I  came  hi-, 
my  sister  told  me  wl|at  she  had  just  heard,  and 
what  she  expected  wFt^i&ut  doubt  would  befkl  me^ 
Full  of  pity,  and  anxtbirs  fot  my  preservation,  i»he 
then  directed  nie  to  take  my  child  and  go  kil0^{ 
some  hi^h  weeds  at  jlo  great  distance  from  th^ 
house,  and  there  hide  myselfandlay  stiU  till  all  was 
silent  in  the  house,  for  my  brother,  she  said,  would 
return  at  evening  and  let  her  know  the  final  con- 
clusion of  the  matter,  of  which  she  promised  tft 
inform  me  in  the  following  manner :  If  I  was  to  be 
kilted,  she  said  she  would  bake  a  small  cake  and 
lay  it  at  the  door,  on  the  outside^  in  a  place  tliat 
she  then  pointed  out  to  me.  When  all  was  silent 
in  tl«y[iousey  I  was  to  creep  softly  ta;(  the  door, 
andrifjhe  cake  could  not  be  found  in^e  place 
specified,  I  was  to  go  in:  but  if  the  cake  was 
there,  I  was  to  take  ray  child  and,  go  as  fast  as 
I  possibly  could  to  a  large  spring  on  the  south  side 
of  Samp's  Creek,  (a  place  that  I  had  often  seen,) 
and  there  wait  till  I  should  iby  some  means  hear 
from  her.         .i^i'ii?:^ 

Alarmed  for  ray  o\m  safety,  I  instantly  follow- 
ed  her  advice,  and  went  into  the  weeds,  where  I 
lay  in  a  state  of  ^greatest  anxiety,  till  all  wa^ 
silent  in  the  housef*  when  I  crept  to  the  door,  and 
there  found,  to  my  great  distress,  the  little  cake ! 
I  knew  my  fate  was  fixed,  unless  I  conld  keep  sev 
creted  till  the ^orm  was  over;  and  accoidirigly 
crept  back  to  the  weeds,  where  my  little  Thomas 
lay,  took  him  on  my  back,  and  laid  my  course  for 


::>■■'  ■.■■'  >?r. 


.yJ'T.- 


\fm 


MARY  JEMISON. 


61 


the  sprinjc^  ad  fast  as  my  legs  would  cariy  ine; 
Tliomas  was  nearly  t^hree  yeai-s  old,  and  very  large 
and  heavy.  I  got  to  the  spring  early  in  the 
morning,  almost  overcome  with  fatigue,  and  at  the 
same  time  fearing  that  I  might  be  pursued  and  ta- 
ken, I  felt  my  life  an  almost  insupportable  burthen. 
I  sat  down  with  my  child  at  the  spring,  and  he 
and  I  made  a  breakfast  of  the  little  cake,  and 
water  of  the  spring,  which  I  dipped  and  supped 
with  the  only  implement  which  1  possessed,  my 

In  the  morning  after  I  flerf,  «s  wak  expected,  | 
the  old   Kmg  came  to  our  house  in  search  of 
me,  and  to  take  me  off;  but,  as  I  was  not  to  be 
found,   he  gave  me  up,   and   went  to  Niagara 
with  the  prisoners  he  had  already  got  into  his  pos- . 

seSSlOn^.-'^''^. -..jV/,/.'.  ^-^:  '^.'^^-i'/^r  -'j^:    /'•'f.   '■■ 

As  soon  as  th^  old  King  was  fairly  out  of  the  ^ 
way,  my  sister  told  my  brother  where  he  coiild ; 
find  me.     He  immediately  set  out  for  the  spring, 
and  ibund  me  about  noon.     The  first  sight  of  him 
made  me  tremble  with  tire  fear  of  death ;  but  when 
he  came  near,  so  that  I  could  discover  his  counte- 
nance, tears  of  joy  flowed  down  my  cheeks,  and  I 
felt  such  a  kind  of  instant  relief  as  no  one  can  pos- 
sibly experience,  unless  when  under  the  absolute 
sentence  of  death  he  receives  an  unlimited  pardon. 
We  were  both  rejoiced  at  the  event  of  the  old 
Kinjj^'s  project;    and  after  staying  at  the  spring  \ 
through  the  night,  set  out  together  for  homeearly 
in  the  rnorningi     When  we  got  to  a  cornfield  near  V 
the  town,  mv  brother  secreted  me  till  he  could" 
go  and  ascertain  how  my  case  stood;  and  finding 
that  the  old  King  was  abserxt,  and  that  all  was 


'0^- 


-# 


„   f  ; 


.*\^.;J 


i 


■  * 


HI 


Uiu 


^•:«!' 


¥■ 


6* 


•■h 


■,"*;^mi 


!  ,■  lA 


..  ..M" 


LIFE  OF 


■I  .  ■»■■    '  ■  * ,   "^  V 


,'V-i,A' 


peaceable,  he  returned  ^  ine^and  I  went  home 
joyfully. 

Not  long  after  this,  my  mother  went  to  Johns- 
town, on  the  Mohawk  river,  with  five  prisoners, 
who  were  redeemed  by  Sir  William  Johnson,  and 
set  at  liberty.^    " 

When  my  son  Thoifems  was  three  or  four  years 
old,  I  was  married  to  an  Indian,  whose  name  was 
Hiokatoo,  commonly  called  Gardow,  by  whom  I 
had  four  daughters  and  two  sons.  I  named  my 
children,  principally,  after  my  relatives,  from  whom 
I  was  parted,  by  calling  my  girls  Jane,  Nancy,  Bet- 
sey and  Polly,  and  the  boys  John  and  Jesse.  Jane 
died  about  twenty-nine  years  ago,  in  the  month  of 
August,  a  little  before  the  great  Council  at  Big- 
Tree,  aged  about  fifteen  years.  My  other  daugh- 
ters are  yet  Uvmg;  and  hsrve  families.  AM  ^■'' 

,.^ ,.;  ■:-l:|^:^i^'6il9A^  VI. 


jj;'. 


''.^■p.'^  'I'VJj^fc 


,l^s'vvi'„'ti'v> 


Peace  amongst  the  Indians.— Celebrations. — Worship. 
Exercises. — Business  of  the  Tribes. — Former  Happi- 
't^  nessof  the  Indians  in  time  of  peace  extolled. — Their 
%  Morals;  Fidehty;  Honesty;  Chastity;  Temperance. 
Indians  called  to  German  Flats. — Treaty  with  Amer- 
icans.—They  are  sent  for  by  the  British  Commission- 
>   ers,  'and  go  to  Oswego. — Promises  made  by  those 
;     Commissioners.—Greatness  of  the  King  of  England. 
\4^  Reward  that  was  paid  them  for  joining  the  British. 
'   They  make  a  Treaty. — Bounty  offered  for  Scalps. 
y,   Return  richly  dressed  and  equipped, — In  1776  they 
;i   kill  a  man  at  Cautega  to  provoke  the  Americans. 
^^  . '  Prisoners  taken  at  Cherry  Ysi}l§XiJ?'^ought  to  Beard's- 


pr 


•t- 


'■^.!-}'X'- 


■/■•^ 


-.-V    ^    .:     .  " ak/X'*.-^  .'.J, 


MARY  JEMISON. 


%:. 


■■-X''' 


Town;  redeemed,  kc. — Battle  at  Port  Stanwix.— ^ 
Indians  suffer  a  great  loss. — Mourning  at  Beard's 
Town. — Mrs.  Jemison's  care  of  and  services  rendered 
to  Butler  and  Brandt. 

After  the  conclusion  of  the  French  war,  our 
tribe  had  nothing  to  trouble  it  till  the  romnience- 
inent  of  the  Revolution.  For  twelve  or  fifteen 
years  the  use  of  the  implements  of  war  was  not 
known,  nor  the  war-whoop  heard,  save  on  da)rs  of 
festivity,  when  the  achievements  of  former  times 
were  commemorated  in  a  kind  of  miniic  warfare, 
in  which  the  chiefs  and  warriors  displayed  their 
prowess,  and  illustrated  their  former  adroitness,  by 
laying  the  ambuscade,  surprizing  their  enemies, 
and  performing  many  accurate  manoetivres  with 
the  tomahawk  and  scalping  knife;  thereby  pre- 
serving and  handing  to  J^eir  children,  the  theory 
of  Indian  warfare.  During  that  period  they  al^o 
pertinaciously  observed  the  religious  rites  of  thehr 
progenitors,  by  attending  with  the  most  schipulous 
exactness  and  a  great  degree  of  enthusiasm  to  the 
sacrifices,  at  particukr  times,  to  appease  the  anger 
of  the  evil  deity,  or  to  excite  the  commisseratioa 
and  friendship  of  the  Ghreat  Good  Spirit,  whom 
they  adored  with  reverence^  as  the  authpr,  govern-* 
or,  supporter  and  disposer  of  every  good  thing  of 
which  tney  participated. 

They  also  practised  in  varlv>ti9  athletic  games, 
such  as  running,  wrestling,  leaping,  and  playingf^^^ 
bajl,  with  a  view  that  their  bodies  might  be  more 
supple,  or  rather  that  they  might  yiot  become  ener- 
vated, and  that  they  might  be  enabled  to  mak.e  a 
proper  selection  of  Chiefs  for  the  councils  of  the 
nation  and  leaders  for  war.  %  rt^>  ■  < 


^i>:  -;. 


•0^1 


vi^^'i,?*: 


-',•■.■  WV    -y. 


MUM 


i&Jiii 


Xr 


■/;■ 


-•»>'.   -fit 


04 


LIFE  OF 


.hr-^ 


W 


mm 


While  the  Indians  were  thus  engaged  in  their 
tound  of  traditionary  performances,  with  the  addi- 
tion of  hunting,  their  women  attended  to  agricul- 
ture, their  families,  and  a  few  domestic  concerns  of 
small  consequence^  and  attended  with  but  little  la- 
bor. 

, ,  No  people  can  live  more  happy  than  the  Indians 
'did  in  times  of  peace,  before  the  introduction  of 
spirituous  liquors  amongst  them;^  Their  lives  were 
a  continual  round  of  pleasures.  Their  v^nts  were 
few,  and  easily  satisfied ;  and  their  cares  were  only 
for  to-day;  the  bounds  of  their  calculations  for 
future  comfort  not  extending  to  the  incalculable 
uncertainties  of  to-morrow.  If  peace  ever  dwelt 
wiih  ([nen,  it  was  in  former  times,  in  the  recesses 
from  war,  amongst  what  are  now  termed  barbariami. 
The  moral  character  of  tl^  Indians  was  fif  I  may 
Ibe  allowed  the  expression)  uncontaminated.  Their 
fidelity  was  perfect,  and  became  proverbial ;  they 
were  strictly  honest;  they  despised  deception  and 
falsehood ;  and  chastity  was  held  in  high  venera- 
tion,  and  a  violation  of  it  was  considered  sacrilege. 
They  were  temperate  in  their  desires,  moderate  in 
their  passions,  and  candid  and  honorable  in  the 
expression  of  their  sentitnents  on  every  subject  of 
importance. 

!•  Thus,  at  peace  amongst  themselves,  and  with 
toie  neighboring  whites j  though  there  were  none  at 
that  time  very  near,  our  Indians  lived  quietly  and 
peaceably  at  home,  till  a  little  before  the  breaking 
out  of  the  revolutionary  war,  when  they  were  sent 
(t^r,  together  with  the  Chiefs  and  members  of  the 
"Bix  Nations  generally,  by  the  people  of  the  States, 
to  go  to  the  German  Flats,  and  there  hold  a  general 


>..'■-.. 


■r'H- 


.n:i«'t 


A,^U 


^'  ■  * i>  rffc.  . 


■<■  j>-v"»l"i 


#"■    > 


.^^*;> 


ri 


MARY  JEMISON. 


65 


council,m  order  that  the  people  of  the  states  might 
ascertain^  in  ^ood  season,  who  they  should  esteem 
and  treat  as  c-nemies,  and  who  as  friends^  in  the 
great  war  which  was  then  upon  the  point  of  break- 
ing out  between   hem  and  ll|a  King  of  £ngland. 

Our  Indians  obeyed  thecfill^and  the  council  was 
holden,  at  which  the  pipe  of  peace  was  smoked, 
and  a  treaty  made,  in  which  the  Six  Nations 
solemnly  agreed  th&t  if  a  war  should  eventually 
break  out,  they  would  not  take  up  arms  on  either 
side;  but  that  they  would  observe  a  strict  neu- 
trality. With  that  the  people  of  the  states  were 
satisfied,  as  they  had  not  asked  their  assistance, 
nor  did  not  wish  it.  The  Indians  returned  to  their 
homes  well  pleased  that  they  could  live  on  neutral 
ground,  surrounded  by  the  din  of  war,  without  be- 
ing engaged  in  it.^^|-^^ t- -  ^  ^^^  - 

About  a  year  passe^ff,  and  we,  as  usual,  were 
enjoying  ourselves  in  the  employments  of  peacea- 
ble times,  when  a  messenger  arrived  from  the  Brit- 
ish Commissioned;  requesting  all  the  Indians  of 
our  tribe  to  attenij  a  general  council  which  was 
soon  to  be  held  at  Oswego.  The  council, conven- 
ed, and  being  opened j  the  British  Commissioners 
informed  the  Chiefs  that  the  object  of  calling  a 
council  of  the  Six  Nations,  was,  to  engage  their 
assistance  in  subduing  the  rebels,  the  people  of 
the  states,  who  had  risen  up  against  the  good  King, 
their  master,  and  were  about  to  rob  h».m  of  a  great 
part  of  his  possessions  and  wealthy  and  added  that 
thiey  would  ainply  reward  them  for  all  their  ser- 
vices.     •*: '■^-:^;,^v;l?^;■J 

The  Chiefs  then  arose,  and  informed,  the  Cora- 
fijissjoners  of  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  treaty 


,  ■■?#■: 


•;^-.;-«, 


.-■•^     >»i  ■ 


'^^ 


mmt 


MMMil 


wmmmmmmummmifim 


WHmmmmmmiimimmammismimgii-M 


yHPTWOTTWW^lWWgFW^y^ 


">f^' 


X 


% 


m 
m 


w.- 


m\u\\ 


.    '  ■      ,  'V., 

■,'■■  '   ".i'  ■ 


^      1LIFE  OF  ■i:^'B:^::'^i  ^  ']Wr^ 

which  they  had  entered  Into  with  the  people  of  th^* 
states^  the  year  before,  and  that  they  sfiould  not 
violate  \t  by  taking  up  the  hatclvat  against  them. 

The  Cmwmxmomn  cominoed  their  entreaties 
without  sviccessj  tili  '^isey  addressed  their  avarice, 
by  teUhng*  our  people  ^Hiat  the  pwiiople  of  the  states 

'■  wwefev/ ia  riMrnher/'anl-'easily  sobdued;  aod  that 
on  the  aecouot  of  their ^disoiyedieiice  to  t]m  Ki»jg'j 
they  ;'ustly  merited  ail  the  fijifmhxnent  tlut  it  wa« 
possible  for  white  men  and  fadiaiis  to  |y^,l!i€t  irpoti 
them;  autd  added j,  that  tire  Kirsg  wis.  rich  'amA 
powerful^  both  in  money  aod  subjects:  'T'teh-k 
V\xm  was  Bs  plenty  as  the  water  m  lake  OsHyriO':  - 
that  hia  men  '-vere^as' numerous  as  the -sands  npoa 
the  lake  shore: — and  that  tlie  iruliaos,  if  tlfe|^ 
would  assist  in  the  war^  and  persevere  in  ihetl'-' 
friendsdiip  to  the  King,  ttM  it  was  closed,  shoidd 
never  want  for  money  or  goods.  Upon  this  i[\^, 
Chiefs  concluded  a  treaty  with  the  British  Com- 

,  missionersj,  in  w-hich  they  agreed  to  take  op  nrms 
against  the  rebels,  and  €ontinuei*-in"  the  service  of 
\m  Majesty  till  they  were  sijii3iti!lped^  in  considera- 
tion pf  certain  coodidons  vuMch  were  stipulated  in 
the  treaty  to  be  performed  fey  the  Biitish  govern- 
ment mid  its  agents..  ■-  -^■'■'^  ••''''' 
"-As  s®©n  as  the  treaty  was  (inislied,  the  Coramis- 
siooers  imade  a  prwent'to  each  Indian  of  a  suit  of 
ciotheSj  a  brass  kettle,  a  gun  an.d  tomahawk,  a 
scaiping  kni(ej#^c|aantky  of  powder  ^^md  lead, -a 
piece  of  gold^mwd  promised  a  hA^^m'i^f  on  every 
scalp  that  shau'ild  be  brought  in.  Thus  richly  clad 
and  equipped.,,  tbey  returned  home,  after  an  ab- 
sence of  about,  two  weeks,  fyll  of  the  fjre  of  war^ 
iMlli  anxious  to  encoynter  thek  esieraies.    Man*^ 


A*vV\T-"/    ,*' 


"'^ 

''"'',  .. 

JW| 

6l'"  ■ 

'•*; 

5jl^ 

L 

§ 

■  ■' 

Hr'-**' 

ry.' 

r 

Er   ' 

.'*, 

■K'^ 

^v^'^jmm 

w  ■ 

,*.«> 

^^m^mM^^^mMlMik 


^" 


-  -r^  "»\»  '— T' 


'-'.i 


'.ri 


;.\' 


'■■? 


A 


■■*.t-. 


MARY  JEMISON. 


'^jj'-^^i 


o'uld  not 


>.'>?■■ 


i-o 


;gr: 


ritreaties 

^Avarice;, 
^>,e  states 
and  that 

;»,t  «t  wa« 

•ich  fHud 
f'km  his 

ds  npo'a 
if  they 
in  iheit 
,  shoiild 
this  the 
fj  Com- 
ip  Brms  1 
•vice  of    1 

(a ted  ill 
govern- 

suit  of 

awk,  a 
lead ^  a 

every 
ly  clad 
ao  ah- 
>f  war, 

[anvof 


the  kettles  which  jie  fndiJins  received  at  that  time 
are  now  v^Mse  on  the  Genesee  Flats^  >^r  ^      ' 

Hired  to  combust  depredations  upon  the  whites^ 
who  ha^  o'^^'"  t^6«^  n<3  offence,  they  waited  ?iii««? 
patiently  to  commence  their- labor,  till  sometiih^^^ 
m  the  spring  of  177^1  when  i  convenient  opportu*- 
oity  olTered  for  them  to  m^ike  an  atteek.  At  that 
time,  a  party  of  our  Indians  were  at  Cau-te-ga, 
who  shot  a  mnn  tlwX  wnr^  looking  after  his  horse, 
for  the  sole  purpose,  as  I  was  informed  by  my  Ih- 
dian  brother,  who  ^vas  present,  of  commencing 
hosti!itfes>      ■•^v.i^:^--.^^^'^-^^^  '■' 

In  'Mny  foilov  in^,  our  Indians  were  in  their  first 
battle  with  the  Americans;  but  at  what  place  I  ani 
unal>!e  to  determine.     While  they  were  absent  ai-;; 
thai  time,  ray  daughter  Nancy  was  born,  •^■l-'^l^*^^ 

The  same  year,   at  Qherry  Valley,  our  Indians 
took  a  woman  and   her  three  daughters  prisoners^ 
and  brought  them  on,  leaving  one  at  Canandaigusr^^i 
one  at  Honeoy,  one  at  Canaraugus,  and  one  (the 
woman)  at  Littkv  Beard^s  Town,  whero  I  residedv. 
The  woman  told  iBBfe  that  she  and  her  daughter^ 
might  have  escaped,  %ut  thai  they  expected  the 
British  armv  only,  an<i  therefore  made  no  efibrt^'^ 
Her  husband  and  sons  got  away.     Sometime  hav*> 
iner  elapsed,  they  were  redtened  at  Fort  Niagara 
by  Col.  Butler,  who  clothed  them  well,  and  sent 
tiiem  home.  V    t* 

In  the  same  expedkion,  Joseph  Smith  was  taken 
prisoner  at  or  near  Cherry  Valley,  brouglit  to 
Genesee,  and  detained  til!  after  the  nwoluti^r^^ry 
war.  He  v»^as  then  liberated,  atid  the  Indians  made 
him  a  present,  in  company  with  Horatio  Jones,  of 
6(K)0  acres  of  land  lying  in  the  present  town  of 
Leicester,  in  the  county  of  Livingston.       t 


-> 


mmmmm^ 


i 


i<; 


^f 


Hi: 

dm 


mm- 


^■^■; 


'S  •*< 


^. 


/•i. 


■;„^(^'- 


m- 


-A 


l< 


■)  ilf 


V 


V 

One  of  tbe  girls  just  mentioned  j  was  married  to 
a  British  officer  at  Fort  Niagara^  by  the  name  oi'j 
Johrisoo,  who  at  the  time  she  was  taken,  took  a 
g^\d  riwgiV<mi  her  linger j  without  any  compliments 
or  ct^resuonies,     Whm  he  saw  her  at  Niagara  he 
ie^ogjibe^  her  feattsrj^$j  restored  the  ring  that  he 
%if\  so  iJiipohtely  borrbwed^  and  courted  |,ad  mar- 
ried her.  ■  .'^^''-' 
Previous  to  the  battle  at  Fort  Stanwix,  the  British 
i'  '«$ent  for  the  Indians  to  come  f|od  see  them  whip  the 
Virebels;  and,  at  the  same  time  stated  that  they  did 
'  ^  Hot  wish  to  have  them  fight,  but  wanted  to  irave 
'  i^  A^hem  just  sit  dowii,  smoke  their  pipes,  land  h>ok  on. 
Jvl^^ur  iodians  went,  to  a  man  5  but  contrary  to  th^ir 
-  /f  :%xpert'dtioD,  instead  of  smoking:  and  looking  on, 
>   '"^ef  were  obliged  to  fight  for  tiieir  lives,  and  in 
the  end  of  the  batihi  were  completely  beaten,  with 
a  great  loss  in  killed  and  wounded.     Our  Indians 
alone  had  thirty-six  killed,  and  a  great  number 
if^ounded.     Our  town  exhibited  ascene  of  real  sor- 
row and  distress,  when  our  warriors  returned  and 
"Jirecounted  their  misfortunes,  and  stated  the  real 
ivfJoss  they  had  sustained  in  the  engagement.     The 
^^ij«bourning  was  excessive,  and  was  expressed  by  the 
j^                            shrieks,  and  how  lings,  and  by 
"vinimitable  gesticulati<>ns.                   W     >^      '  - 
ii|^?fv^uring  the  revolution,  my  house  was  the  home 
,    %0f  Col's  Butler  and  Brandt,  whenever  they  chanced 
•*to  come  into  ^^r  neighborhood  as  they  passed  to 
and  from  FortjMagara^  which  was  the  seat  of  their 
military  opei4$imis.     Many  and  many  a  night  I 
Jbave  poundefl[*uamp  for  them  from  sun-set  till  sun- 
"tise,  and  furnished  them  with  necessary  provision 
aod  clean  cl^tiing  lor  t^^ir  journ^^i     ;| 


-■•  '^\ 


^MM 


^ 


MARY  JEMISON. 


yii^i>mym^- 


f- 


.-■'■^r-' 


0 


.-■■m.M::      CHAPTER  VII.^.>*»^^^'«.i^ 

■  ■ ' ' ,  ■  '  ',.    ■■  -■^- ■■^^^w^^i^*^'^- 

Gen.  Sullivan  with  a  large  army  arrives  at  Canand^^ 
gua.— ^Indians'  troubles»~~Determine  to  stop  thm?" 
march. — Skirmish   at  Conrie$sius  Lake. — Circum«»? 
stances  attending  the  Execution  of  an  Oneida  warrior*. 
Escape  of  an  Indign.  Prisoner.-— Lieut.  Bovd  andt,!! 
another  man  tak^n  Prisoners. — Cruelty  of  BoydV 
Execution,-"~lndians  retreat  to  the  woods. — Sullivan 
comes  on  to  Genesee  Plats  and  destroys  the  property 
of  the    Indians — Returns. — Indians    return. — Mrs; 
Jemison  goes  to  Oardow. — -Her  Employment  there.-4^- 
Attention  of  an  old  Negro  to  her  safety,  Uc. — Severe 
Winter.—Sufferings  of  the  Indians. — Destruction  of 
Game.— Indi?.ns'  Expedition  to  the  Mohawk. — Cap- 
ture old  John  O'Bail,  &ic. — Other  Prisoners  taken, 


/' 


'>% 


Ucp 


syy:.-^;^.-^ 


M*-;^. 


v:^f  i-f:  ■  i  ^.^■f  ^  ''ffa*';j^t^<;i: 


'^"(•■?? 


Fort  four  or  five  years  we  sustained  no  loss  in 
the  war,  except  in  the  few  who  had  been  killed  in 
distan*  battles;  and  our  tribe,  because  of  the  re^jt 
moteness  of  its  situation  from  the  enemy,  felt  secure 
from  an  attack  At  length,  in  the  fall  of  1779^ 
intelligence  was  received  that  a  large  and  powerful 
army  of  the  rebels,  under  the  command  of  General 
SulI'van,  was  making  rapid  progress  towards  our 
settlement,  burning  and  destroying  the  huts  ajjd 
corn-fiplds ;  killing:  the  cattle,  hogs  and  horses,  and 
cutting  down  the  fruit  trees  belonging  to  the  Indians 
throughout  the  country.  ?  \>-'     '^^^^i^  »: 

Our  Indians  immediately  becatfie  alarmed,  and 
suffered  f  very  thing  but  death  from  fear  that  they 
should  be  taken  bv  surprize,  and  totally  destroyed 
at  a  single  blow.  But  in  order  to  prevent  so  great 
a  catastrophe,  they  sent  out  a  few  spies  who  wefe 


,»,»■, . 


tffllilfmfBMI 


w 


^J.,V 


111    ■* 


r- 


C-i^i 


l! 


74 


LIFE  OF, 


;^ 


--ft,;,)  '' 


to  keep  themselves  at  a  short  distance  in  front  of 
the  invading  army,  in  order  to  watch  its  operations, 
and  give  information  of  its  advances  and  success. 
Sullivan  arrived  at  Canandaigua  Lake,  and  had 
nnished  his  work  of  destruction  tliere,  and  it  was 
ascertained  that  he  was  ahoqt  to  march  to  cur  flats, 
when  our  Indians  resolved  to  give  him  battle  on 
the  way,  and  prevent,  if  possible,  the  distresses  to 
\vhich  they  knew  we  should  be  subjected,  if  he 
should  succeed  in  reaching  our  town.     Accordingly 
they  sent  all  their  women  and  children  into  the 
woods  a  little  west  of  Little  Beard's  Town,  in  order 
that  we  might  make  a  good  retreat  if  it  sliould  be 
necessary,  and  then,  well  armed,  set  out  to  face  the 
conquering  enemy.     The  place  which  they  fixed 
upon  for  their  battle  ground  lay  between  Honeoy 
Creek  and  the  head  of  Connessius  Lakel  u;t/i 
^!*  At  length  a  scouting  party  from  Sullivan's  army 
arrived  at  the  spot  selected,  when  the  Indians  arose 
from  their  ambush  with  all  the  fierceness  and  terror 
that  it  was  possible  for  them  to.  exercise,  and 
directly  put  the  party  upon  a  retreat.     Two  Oneida 
Indians  were  all  the  prisoners  that  were  taken  in 
that  skirmish.     One  of  them  was  a  pilot  of  Gen. 
Sullivan,  and  had  been  very  active  in  the  war,  ren- 
dering to  the  people  of  the  states  essential  services. 
At  the  commencement  of  the  revolution  he  had  a 
brother  older  than  himself,  who  resolved  to  join 
the  British  service,  and  endeavored  by  all  the  art 
that  lie  was  capable  of  using  to  persuade  his  brother 
to  accompany  him;    but  his  arguments  proved 
abortive.    This  went  to  the  British,  and  that  joined 
the  American  army-     At  this  critical  juncture  they 
met,  one  in  the^  <;^pacity  of  a  conqueror,  the  other 


m 

fori 

nizj 

glaj 

he 

hai 

of 

nerl 


fv 


'l-  i      i.S**S'"  • 


f    ^f}-'' 


}• 


^  4'.;  v' 


:"-i 


f.> 


„>'■'■» 


H  4,, 


I  front  of 
erations, 
juccess. 
and  had 
)d  it  was 
>ur  flats, 
attle  on 
esses  to 
d,  if  he 
[)rdingly 
into  the 
in  order 
ould  be 
face  the 
By  fixed 
ftoneoy 

^■  -^v  ,  ■•       .- 

I's  aiTfny 
IS  arose 
d  terror 
le,  and 
Oneida 
ken  in 
f  Gen. 
ar,  ren- 
rvices. 

had  a 
to  join 
the  art 
rotlier 
)roved 
joined 
ethey 

other 


MARY  JEMISOIS* 


71 


u 


^••^?il- 


in  that  of  a  prTsoner ;  and  as  an  Indian  selctom 
forgets  a  countenance  that  he  has  seen,  they  recog-  _ 
nized  each  other  at  sight.  Envy  and  rev6nge 
glared  in  the  features  of  the  conquering  savage^s 
he  advanced  to  his  brother  (the  prisoner)  in  all  tne 
haughtiness  of  Indian  pride,  heightened  by  a  sense 
of  power^and  addressed  him  in  the  following  man- 
ner: ■■i,t*  '■''^.y''-'  " 

"  Brother,  you  have  merited  death  f  The  hatchet 

or  the  war-club  shall  finish  your  career ! — When  I* 

begged  Of  you  to  follow  me  in  the  fortunes  of  war, 

you  was  deaf  to  my  cries — you  spurned  my  entrea- 
ties !  '-*v-.  -    •  .;>%■.,..?.  V,v,/'5^^r^.,:_..^  >     v;Vv,\.v*s',..  ..  .  -■/...,,, 

"Brother!  you  liiave  merited  death  arid  sn an 
have  your  deserts  I    When  the  rebels  raised  theif 
hatchets  to  fight  their  good  master,  you  sharpened 
your  knife,  you  brightened  your  rifle  and  led  oa  ,>;"•; 
our  foes  to  the  fields  of  oui   fathers' — You   have^    /: 
me:ited  death  and  shall  die  by  our  hands!    Wheiife^l 
those  rebels  had  drove  us  from  the  fields  of  0I^|§ 
fathers  to  seek  out  new  homes,  it  was  you  who^ 
could  dare  to  steptbfrtlras  their  pilot,  and  conduct 
them  even  to  the  dootfl  of  our  wigwams,  to  butcher 
our  children  and  put  us  to  death !  No  crinie.can  be 
greater ! — But  though  you  have  merited  death  and 
shall  die  on  this  spot,  my  hands  shall  not  be  stained 
in  the  blood  of  a  brother!    WJm  will  strika?^^ 

Little  Beard,  who  was  btaiidiifg  by,  as  soon  a^ 
the  speech  was  ended,  struck  thf  prisoner  on  the 
head  with  his  tomahawk,  and  d^^patched  him  at 
once!  •- 

Little  Beard  th^ti  inforrpcd  the  other  Indian 
prisoner  that  as  they  Were  af  war  with  the  whites 
only,  and  not  with  the  Indians,  they  would  spare 


t 


.-^t 


^->- 


m*v'. 


LIFE  QF 


A..-t 


^ J  ?..,*■< 


,-.f:.  . 


V^ 


■^ 


r',A% 


Rj  .     ■;  ,♦ 


\1:. 


I'M 


ill  I' 


his  life,  and  after  a  while  give  him  his  liberty  in  an 
hono)rable  manner.  The  Oneida  warrior,  however, 
was  jealous  of  Little  Beard's  fidelity  ;  and  suspect- 
ing that  he  should  soon  fail  by  his  hands^  watched 
fSt  a  favorable  opportunity  to  make  his  escape ; 
which  he  soon  eifected.  Two  Indians  were  lead*! 
ing  him,  one  on  each  side,  when  he  made  a  violent 
effort,  threw  them  upon  the  ground,  and  run  for 
his  lilfe  towards  where  the  main  body  of  the  Amer- 
ican |3|r  my  was  encamped.  The  Indians  pur- 
sued him  without  success;    but  in  their  alisence 

'  they  fell  In  with  a  small  detachment  of  Sullivan's 
men,  with  whom  they  had  a  short  but  severe 
Finnish,  in  which  they  killed  a  number  of  the 
enemy,  took  Capt.  or  Lieut.  William  Boyd  and 
one  private,  prisoners,  and  brought  them  to  Little 
Beard's  Town,  where  they  were  sooii  after  put 
to  death  in  the  most  shocking  and  cruel  manner. 
Little  Beard,  in  this,  as  in  all  other  scenes  of  cru- 
elty that  happened  at  his  town,  was  master  of  cere- 

■>  monies,  and  pi  incipal  actor.  Po^r  Boyd  was  strip- 
ped  of  his  clothing,  and  then  tied  to  a  sapling, 

.,  where  the  Indians  menaced  his  life  by  throwing  their 
tomahawks  at  the  tree^  directly  over  his  htnd, 
brandishing  their  scafping  knives  around  him  in 
the  most  frightful  mai[)ner,and  accompanyinc:  their 
ceremonies  with  terrific  shouts  of  joy.  Having 
punished  him  sujfllinently  in  this  way,  they  niacfe  a 
small  opening  in  bis  abdomen,  took  out  an  intes- 
tine, which  they  tied  to  ihe  sapling,  and  then  un- 
bound hinri  from  the  tree,  and  drove  him  round  it 
till  he  had  drawn  out  the  whole  of  his  intestines. 
He  wwn  then  beheaded,  his  head  was  stuck  upon  a 
pole^  and  hiibody  left  on  the  ground  unburied. 


i.>. 


il|^ 


M 


f,:-jt  '^!'  -.JI..U. 


mm. 


mmm 


^mm 


mm 


m 


"?3fe' 


•Ay-- 


■■•if.       . 


MART  JEMiSON. 


n 


Thus  ended  the  life  of  poor  WiUiam  Boycl^  who, 
it  was  said,  had  every  appearance  of  being  ap  ac- 
tive and  enterprizing  officer,  of  the  first  talents. 
The  other  prisoner  was  (if  I  remember  distinctly) 
only  beheaded  and  left  near  Boyd.  « 

This  tragedy  bemg  finifjied>  our  Indians  a^liki 
held  a  short  council  on  the  expediency  of  givk^ 
Sullivan  battle,  if  he  should  continue  to  advamse^ 
and  finally  came  to  the  conclusion  that  they  w«re 
not  strong  enough  to  drive  him,  nor  to  pre^iat  bi$ 
taking  possession  of  their  fields:  but  that  jip  Vras 
possible  they  would  escape  with  their  own  lives, 
preserve  their  families^  and  leave  their  possessions 
to  be  oven  un  by  the  invading  army.        -^  ^ 

The  women  and  children  were  then  sent  on  still 
further  towardB  Buffalo,  tea  large  creek  that  ^as» 
called  by  the  Indians  Catawba,  accompanied  by  a 
part  of  the  Indians,  while  the  remainder  secreted 
themselves  in  the  woods  back  of  Beard's  Town,  to 
watch  the  movements  of  the  army. 

At  that  time  I  had  three  children  who  went  witb 
me  on  foot,  one  who  rode  on  horse  back,  and  one 
whom  I  carried  on  my  back. 

Our  corn  was  go<*ui  that  year;  a  part  of  which 
we  had  gathered  and  secuied  for  winter. 

In  one  or  two  days  after  ^he  skirmish  at  Connis- 
sius  lake,  Sullivan  and  his  army  arrived  at  Genesee 
liver,  where  they  destroyed  every  article  of  the 
food  kind  that  they  could  lay  their  hands  on.  A 
pan  of  our  corn  they  burnt,  and  threw  the  remain- 
der into  th*;  river.  They  burnt  our  houses,  killed 
what  few  cattle  and  horaes  they  could  find,  des- 


troyed our  fruit  trees. 


and  left  nothing  but  th« 
G 


r#' 


1    r 


\\   ■,  ;v<^, 


W- 


I 


■:i>,^. 


:'iif?r 


mmmmm 


74; 


Life  ob!,# 


^ilA-'i  ".■»'; 


t^:.>^ 


^*0i 


bare  &oil  ^md  Unnb^r.    But  the  Indians  had  elcrp^^d 
and  were^ndt  to  be  found. 

\  Havjmg  crossed  and  recrossed  the  river^and  fin-' 
iiuied:  the  work  of  destruction,  the  army  marched 
df^p  the  east.  Our  Indians  saw  them  move  ofT, 
but  spspecting  that  it  w^f .  Sullivan's  intention  to 
watch  our  return,  and  then  to  take  us  by  surprizei 
resolved  that  the  main  body  of  our  tribe  should 
hunt  where  we  then  were,  till  Sullivan  had  gone  so 
I !>;  Jar  tbijkthere  would  be  no  danger  of  his  returning 
M^to  mcpltus*     ,  . 

,  This  jbeing  agreed  to,  we  hunted  continually  till 
the  Indians  concluded  that  there  could  be  np  risk 
in  our  once  more  taking  possession  of  our  lands* 
Accordingly  we  all  returned;  but  what  were  our 

.  ie^ings  when  we  found  that  tlierc  was  not  a  mouth- 
ful of  any  kind  of  sustenance  left,  not  even  Enough 
to  keep  a  child  one  day  from  perishing  with  huqger. 
The  weather  by  this  time  had  beconie  cold  and 
stormy;  and  as  we  were  destitute  of  Jiouses  and 
food  too,  I  immediately  resolved,  to  tfijke  my  chil- 
dren and  look  out  for  myself^  without  delay.  With 
this  intention  I  took  two  of  py  little  ones  on  my 
back,  bade  the  otlier  thr^e  follow,  and  the  same 
night  arrived  on  the  Qnldow  Hats,  where  I  have 

eve^:  since  resided. 
"Hi At  that  time, t\^'^negroes,  who  had  run  away 
from  their  masteraj|^metime  before,  were  the  only 
1^'       inhabitants  of  those  flats.     They  lived  in  a  small 
cabin  and  had  planted  and  raised  a  large  field  of 
corn,  which  they  had  not  yet  harvested.    As  they 
were  in  want  of  help  to  secure  their  crop,  I  hired 
to  them  to  husk  corn  till  the  whole  was  harvested. 
I  have  laughed  a  thousand  times  to  myself  whea 


#  ":, 


;»^     ... 


.:\ 


n 


■'A- 


'^^o:.t:m.' 


MARY  JEMISON. 


^^•^,.:', 


7. 


{-^^ 


f5 


1  have  thought  of  the  good  old  negro,  who  hired 
me,  who  fearing  that  I  should  get  taken  or  injured 
by  the  Indians,  stood  by  me  constantly  when  I  was 
husking,  with  a  loaded  gun  in  his  hand,  in  orderifo 
keep  off  the  enemy,  and  dierehy  lost  as  much  laSor 
of  his  own  as  he  received  from  nte,  by  paying  good 
wages.    I,  however,  war  not  displeased  with  hb 
attention;  for  I  knew  that  I  shoukl  need  all  the 
corn  that  I  could  earn,  even  if  I  should  husk  the 
whole.    I  husked  enough  fdr  them,  to  gi|lii  for 
myself,  at  every  tenth  strii%,  one  hundred  strings' 
of  ears,  which  were  equal  to  twenty-five  bushels  of^ 
shelled  corn.     This  seasonable  supply  made  my^ 
family  comfortable  for  samp  and  cakes  through  th^x 
succeeding  winter,  which  was  the  most  severe  that^V 
I  have  witnessed  since  my  remembrance.    Tiie| 
snow  fell  about  five  feet  deep,  and  remained  so  for^ 
a  long  time,  and  the  weather  was  extremely  cold;^« 
so  much  so  indeed,  that  almost  al^  the  game  upon 
which  the  Indians  depended  for  subsistence,  per-^ 
ished,  and  reduced  them  almost  to  a  state  of  star- 
vation through  ^at  and  three  or  four  succeeding 
years.    When  the  snow  melted  in  the  spring,  deer 
were  found  dead  upon  the  ground  in  vast  numbers; 
and  other  animals,  of  every  description,  perished 
from  the  cold  also,  and  were  found  dead,  in  multi- 
tudes.    Many  of  our  people  barely  escaped  with 
their  lives,  and  some  actually  died  of  hunger  and 
freezing'.  -, 

But  to  return  from  this  digressbn :  Having  been 
completely  routed  at  Little  BeardVTown,  deprived 
of  a  house,  and  without  the  means  of  building  one 
in  season,  after  T  had  finished  my  husking,  and 
having  found  from  the  short  acquaintance  which  I 


#:.  ■ 


*i '  ■. 


■■V-K 


"t^' 


iV-^;' 


'^■'^cf-: 


wmmmmm 


m 


I 

ill! 


76 


LIFE  OP 


vV 


had  had  with  the  negroes,  that  they  were  kind  and 
ff Mildly,  I  concluded,  at  their  request,  to  tnke  up 
my  residence  with  them  for  a  while  in  their  cabin, 
tili  I  should  be  able  to  provide  a  hut  for  myself.  I 
lived  more  comfbrtabie  than  i  expected  to  through 
the  winter,  and  the  next  season  made  a  shelter  fojr 
myself. 

The  negroes  continued  on  my  flats  two  or  three 
yeard  after  this,  and  then  left  them  for  a  place  that 
they  expected  would  suit  them  much  better.  But 
as  that  land  became  ^y  own  in  a  few  years,  by 
virtue  of  a  deed  from  the  Chiefs  of  the  Six  Nation*, 
I  have  lived  there  from  that  to  the  present  time. 

My  flats  were  cleared  before  1  saw  them;  and  it 
wais  the  opinion  of  the  oldest  Indians  that  were  at 
Genishau,  at  the  tkne  that  I  first  wept  thi^e,  that 
all  th#  flats  on  the  Genesee  river  were  improved 
b<efore  any  of  the  Indian  tribes  ever  saw  them.  I 
well  remember  that  soon  alter  )t  went  to  Little 
Beard's  Town,the  banks  of  FaU*6rookwere  washed 
off,  which  left  a  larce  number  of  human  bones 
uncovered.  The  Inmans  then  said  tliat  those  were 
not  the  bones  of  Indians,  bwciiUse  they  had  never 
heard  of  any  of  their  dead  hemg  buried  there ;  but 
ihBt  they  were  the  bolides  of  a  race  of  men  who  a 
great  many  moons  hifore,  cleared  that  land  and 
fived  on  the  flats. 

The  next  summer  after  Sullivan's  campaign,  our 
Indians,  highly  incensed  at  the  whites  for  the  treat- 
men^  they  had  received,  and  the  suflerings  which 
they  had  consequently  endured,  determined  to 
obtain  some  redress  by  destroying  their  frontier 
settlements.  Corn  Planter,  otherwise  called  John 
C^Bail,  led  the  Indians,  and  an  ofllcer  by  the  name 


f 


M^ 


it 


,-•1, 


MARY  JEMISON. 


■  •? 
>' 


^  i«  '«v 


■->. 


of  Johnston  commanded  the  British  in  the  expedi-' 
tion.  The  force  was  large,  and  so^rongly  bent 
upon  revenge  and  vengeance,  that  seemingly  no- 
thir  jr  could  avert  its  march,  nor  prevent  its  depre- 
dations. After  leaving  Genesee  they  marched 
directly  to  some  of  the  head  waters  of  the  Susque- 
hannah  river,  and  Schoharie  Creek,  went  down 
that  creek  to  the  Mohawk  river,  thence  up  that 
river  to  Fort  Stanwix,  and  from  thence  came  home. 
In  their  route  they  burnt  a  number  of  places;  de- 
stroyed all  the  cattle  and  other  property  that  fell  in 
their  way;  killed  a  number  of  white  people,  and 
brought  home  a  few  prisoners. 

*^In  that  expedition,  when  they  came  to  Fort-  C'^ 
Plain,  on  the  Mohawk  river.  Corn  Planter  and  a       f 
party  of  his  Indians  took  old  John  O'Bail,  a  white 
man,  aM  made  him  a  prisoner.     Old  John  O'Bail, 
in  his  younger  days  had  fret|uently  passed  ftirough' 
the  Indian  settlements  that  lay  between  the  Hud- 
son and  Fort  Niagara,  and  in  some  of  his  excur- 
simii  had   become  enamored  with  a  squaw,  by  'S^^l 
whom  he  hatj  A  son  that  was  called  Corn  Planter.      ^ 

Corn  Planter,i(Vds  a  chief  of  considerable  emi- 
nence ;  and  having^  been  inforn^ed  of  his*parentage 
and  of  the  place  of  his  father's  residence,  took 
the  old  man' artftis  time,  m  order  that  he  might 
make  an  introduction  le^urely,  and  become  ac; 
quainted  with  a  man  to  whom,  though  a  stranger, 
he  was  satisfied  that  he  owed  his  existence. 

After  he  had  taken  the  old  «Hin,  his  father,  he 
led  him  as  a  prisoner  .ten  or  li^elve  miles  up  tlie 
river,  and  then  stepped  before  him,  faced  about, 
and  addressed  him  in  the  following  terms : — 

Mv  name  is  John  O'Bail,  Commonly  cidl^d 

'2 


« 


y>.\^;: 


■->'■' 


..*.  i'.'  ..■■.4«.- 


V 


■%' 


■I^.M  ^\%L 


mmm 


\' 


m 


m 

III'  i 


Vk 


LIFE  Oy^  ;/. 


\A    V 


QoiEthFlaqterf  1  am  your  8on !  you  arc  my  father ! 
y^u  are  now  my  prisoner,  and  subject  to  tt^e 
cu^tops  of  Indii^a  warfare:  but  you  shall  not  be: 
hanmed;;  you  need  not  fear.  I  am  a  warrbr!, 
Iffj^y  are  the  scalps  which  I  have  taken  !  Many 

frjsoneris  I  ha^a  tortured  to  death !  I  am  your  son ! 
am.a  WiSMrfior!  I^yas  anxious^,  to  see  you,  and  to  i 
greQt  you  ip  friendship.  I  went  to  your  cabin  and; 
took,  you  by  force !  But  your  lifef  shall  be  spared. 
Indians  love  ttieir  friends  and  their  kindred,  and 
tfeat  theno^  with  kindness.  If  now  you  choose  to 
f<^llQW  the  fortune  of  your  yellow  son,  and  to  live 
with  our  people,  1  will  cherish  your  old  age  with 
{plenty  of  venison,  andyou  shall  live  easy :  But  if  it 
is  your  choiceto  return  to  your  fields  and  live  with 
youi^  white  children,  I  will  send  a  party  of  my 
trusty  young  men  to  conduct  you  back  ip  safety. 
Iresped  you,.my  father;  you  have  been  friendly 
to  Indians,  and  they  are  your  friends." 

Old  John  chose,  to  return.  Corn  Planter,  as 
good  as.  his  word,  ordered  an  escort  to  attend  him 
^<^e,  which  they  did  with  the  greatest  care. 

Amongst  the  prisoners  that  w^re  brought  to 
Genesee,  \vas  William  Newkirk,  a  man  by  the 
i^ajme  of  Price,  and  two  negroes. 

Price  lived  a  while  witii  Little  Beard,  and  after- 
wards with  Jack  Beriy,  an  Indian,     When  he  left 

Jack.B^ri-y;  Ixe  w§P^  ^^  Niagara,  wliere  hfrobw  re- 
sides.        XV  •■4  .  'i^"''^ '  ■ 

Newkirk  wasbrouglit  to  Beard's  Town,  and  lived 

with  Little  Beard  and  at  Fort  Niagara  about  one 

year,  and  then  enlisted  under  Butler,  and  went 

with  hiin  on  an  expedition  to  the  Monong^iela^ 


i^- 


^.- 


MARY  JEMI30N.       ^  il  i  -?-  79 


f»  W    CHAPTER  Vm. 

Life  of  Ebene2€r  Allen,  a  Tory. — He  comes  towil|#(t 
dow. — His  intimacy  with  a  Nanticoke  Squaw.— Shet 
gives  him  a  Cap.— if er  Husband's  jealousy. — Cruelty 
to  his  Wife. — Hiokatoo's  Mandate.— Allen  supports^ 
lier. — Her  Husband  is  received  into  favor .^Allen  la-  „ 
bors,— Purchases  Goods.-Stops  the  Indian  War.~-His 
troubles  with   the  Indians. — Marries  a  Squaw.— Is 
taken  and  carried  to  Quebec. — Acquitted. — Goes  to 
Philadelphia; — Returns  to  Genesee  with  a  Store  of 
Goods,  he. — Goes  to  Farming.^ — Moves  to  Allen's 
Creek. — Builds  Mills    at  Rochester. — Drowns    a 
Dutchman. — Marries  a  white  Wife.— Kills  an   old 
Man. — Gets  a  Concubine. — Moves  to  Mt.  Morris. — 
Marries  a  third  Wife  and  gets  another  Concubine.-— > 
Receives  a  tract  of  Land. — Sends  his   Children  to     ' 
other  States,  foe. — Disposes  of  his  Land.— Moves  to 
Grand  R  ver,  where  he  dies. — :His  Cruelties. 

SQitietiine  near  the  close  of  the  revolutionary 
war/a  ^vhite  man  by  the  nanne  of  Ebenezer  Allen^ 
left  his  people  in  the  state  of  Pennsylvania  on  the 
account  of  some  disaffection  towards  his  country- 
men, and  came  to  the  Genesee  river,  to  reside  with 
the  Indians.  He  tarried  at  Genishau  a  few  days, 
and  came  up  to  Gardow,  i^rhero  I  then  resided.— 
He  was,  apparently,  without  any  business  that 
would  support  him ;  but  he  saon  became  acquaint- 
ed with  my  son  Thomas,  with  whom  he  hunted 
for  a  long  time,  and  made  bis  home  with  him  a^ 
my  house ;  win]ter  came  on,  and  he  continued  his|^ 
stay,  -i^^ar.  ^  :^^- 

\  t  Whea  Allen  came  to  my  house,  I  had  a  white 
man  living  on  «iy  land,  \d[»^had  a  Nanticoke 


;fev» 


<> 


:-r-'<!. 


■w; 


xVJJ 


v 


mj. 


■^. 


«* 


i:^' 


:r¥ 


■^i 


.*" 


wf-m 


1mm 

WMm 


wmmmmm 


'■-■^0. : 


■if 


m 


LIFE  OF 


v>  =  V 


'lw|?iaw  for  his  mfe^  with  whom  he  had  lived  very  ' 
peaeei^bly  |  for  he  v/as  a  moderate  mao  commonly, 
a?rd^ie  was  a  kiod^  genrJe,  ciisnoing  creature.  It 
so  ^>peo<^d  that  he  had  no  hay  for  his  cattle;  so 
that?  in  the  wintei'  he  was  obliged  to  drive  them 
every  d7Ay^  perhaps  ha!f  a  niile  from  his  ho^jse,  to 
let  thesn  feed  on  rushes,  ¥/hich  m  those  days  were 
so  rmmerous  as  to  nearly  cover  the  ground. 

Alieri  having  freqiieotly  seen  the  »,quaW' id  the 
fall,  took  the  opportrioity  wheo  her  husbar^d  was 
sibsent  with  Im  cov/«j  d^'ily  to  make  her  a  visit ; 
mid  m  return  for  hjs  kindnesses  she  made  and 
gave  lijm  a  red  cap  finished  and  decorated  in  the 
highest  Indian  style. 

The  husband  had  for  some  considerable  length 
of  fjnie  feit  a  degree  of  jealousy  that  Allen   was 
trespassing  npon   him    with   the  consent  of    his 
|.8quaw  ;  but  when  he  saw  Allen  dressed  in  so  fine 
■'an  Indian  cap^  and  found  that  his  dear  Nanticoke 
had  presented  it  to  liimj  his  doubts  all  left  h'lm^ 
mid  he  became  so  violently  enraged  thathecaujiyht 
her  by  the  liair  of  Jser  heady  dragged   her  on  the 
ground  to  my  lnouse,  a  distance  of  foity  rodsj  and 
threw  her  in  at  the  door,     Hiokntoo,  my  husband, 
exasperated  at  the  sight  of  so  much  ioliumanjty, 
Jiastily  took  down   his  old  tomahawk,  which  for 
'%while  had  lain  idle,  shook  it  over  the  cuckold's 
he-adf  And  bade  him  jogo  (i.  e.  go  olT.)     The  en- 
raged husband,  well  knowing  that  he  should  feel  a 
blow  if  he  waited  to  hear  the  order  re|X5ated,  in- 
stantly retreated,  and    wefty.  down  the  river  to 
his  cattle.     We  jprotected  the  poor  Nanticoke  wo- 
man, and  gave  }wr  viclnals;,  and  Alien  sympathi- 
zed wi^h^|iier,m  Jifjr  misfortunes  till  spring,  when 


4-1* 


;./  ,v^ 


:;  MAI^  JEMISON.  '         81 

herhusfiiaifidcatrie  to  fi^^ir,  acknowledged  his  former 
errors^  and  that  he  had  abused  her  without  a  eause, 
promised  a  reformation,  and  she  received  hinf^ith 
every  mark  of  a  renewal  of  her  affection.  They 
went  home  lovingly,  and  soon  after  removed  to 
Niagara. 

The  same  spring,  Allen  commenced  working 
my  fiatSj  and  continued  to  labor  there  till  after  thie 
peace  in  1783,  H«»  then  went  to  Philadelphia  on 
soone  busmess  that  detained  him  but  a  few  days, 
and  returned  with  a  horse  and  some  dry  goods, 
which  he  caiTied  to  a  place  that  h  now  called 
Mount  Morris,  where  lie  built  or  bought  a  small 
house. 

The  British  and  Indians  on  the  Niagara  frontie#^ 
dissatisfied  with  the  treaty  of  peace,  were  deter- 
ntiined,  at  all  hazards,  to  continue  their  depreda- 
tions upon  the  white  settlements  which  lay  between 
them  and  Albany.  They  actually  made  ready, 
and  were  about  setting  out  on  an  expedition  to  that 
effect,  when  Allen  (who  by  this  time  understood 
their  customs  of  war)  took  a  belt  of  wampum, 
which  he  had  fraodulently  procured,  and  carried 
it  as  a  token  of  peace  from  the  Indians  to  the  com- 
mander of  the  nearest  American  military  post. 

The  Indians  were  soon  answered  by  the  Amer- 
ican officer  that  the  wampum  was  cordially  accept- 
ed J  and,  that  a  continuance  of  peace  was  ardent- 
ly wished  for.  The  Indians,  at  this,  were  cha- 
grined and  disappointed  beyond  measure ;  but  as 
they  held  the  wampum  to  be  a  sacrf  d  thing,  they 
dared  not  to  go  against  the  impljt  of  its  meaning, 
and  imWdiatelv  burled  the  hatcpet  os  it  respected 
the  people  of  the  United  StatefR  and  smoked  the 


4-  • 


% 


m 


nng^^ 


TW 


firiW-'^pW"^'"" 


'm 


1 

"    1 

1 

1    , 

1 

:A 

'i 

IHif 

1» 

1 

i^Hv 

■ 

I. 

i 
1 

1 

82 


■art* . 


,* 


LIFE  OF 


■M- 


*pipe  of  peace.  They,  however,  resolved  to  pun- 
ish Allen  for  his  officiousness  in  meddling  with 
theJif  national  affairs,  by  presentinjjf  the  sacred 
^ampum  without  thei?  knowledge,  and  went  about 
devising  means  for  his  detection.  A  party  was 
accordingly  despatched  from  Fort  Niagara  to  a|i- 
prehend  him ;  with  orders  to  conduct  him  to  that 
post  for  trial,  or  for  safe  keeping,  till  such  time  as 
his  fate  shouid  be  determined  uppn  in  a  legal  man- 
ner.        .:>>,; 

,,  The  party  came  on  ;  but  before  it  arrived  at 
'(jardow,  Allen  got  news  of  its  approach,  and  fled 
for  safety,  leaving  the  horse  and  goods  that  he  had 
brought  from  Philadelphia,  an  easy  prey  to  his 
enemies.  He  had  not  been  long  absent  when  they 
arrived  at  Gardow,  where  they  mad  Jigent 
search  for  him  till  they  were  satisfied  that  they 
could  not  find  him,  and  then  seized  the  effects 
which  he  had  left,  and  returned  to  Niagara.  My 
son  Thomas,  went  with  them,  with  Allen's  horse, 
and  carried  the  goods. 

Allen,  on  finding  that  his  enemies  had  gone, 
came  back  to  my  house,  where  he  lived  as  before ; 
but  of  his  return  they  were  soon  notified  at  Niaga- 
ra, and  Nettles  (who  married  Priscilla  Ramsay) 
with  a  small  party  of  Indians  came  on  to  take  him. 
He,  however,  by  some  means  found  that  they 
were  near,  and  gave  me  his  box  of  money  and 
trinkets  to  keep  safely,  till  he  called  for  it,  and  again 
took  to  the  woods.  v     ^r 

Nettles  came  on  determined  at  all  eveiits  to  take 
him  before  he  went  back ;  and,  in  order  to  accom- 
plish his  design,  he,  with  his  Indians,  hunted  in  the 
day  time  and  lay  by  at  night  at  my  house,  and  in 


t.  .*■    V-    ■-  ,v 

■  .'1^1'..' 


'.r'*!*^--V 


-'»,-    •%   '^^ 


MARY  JEMISON. 


8S 


that  Way  tliey  prsifetiM!  Ibr  a  number  of  dayll 
Allen  watched  the  motion  of  his  pursuers,  and 
every  night  after  they  had  gone  to  rest,  came  home 
and  got  some  food,  and  then  returned  to  his  retreat. 
It  was  in  the  fall,  and  the  weather  was  cold 
and  rainy,  so  that  he  suffered  extremely.  Some 
nigl>ts  he  sat  in  my  chamber  till  nearly  day-break, 
while  his  enemies  were  below,  and  when  the  time 
arrived  I  assisted  him  to  escape  unnoticed. 

Nettles  at  length  abandoned  the  chase — wen 
home,  and  Allen,  all  in  tatters,  came  in.  By  run- 
ning in  the  woods  hi^  clothing  had  become  torn 
into  rags,  so  that  he  was  in  a  suffering  condition, 
almost  naked.  Hiokatoo  gav^pni  a  blanket,  and 
a  piece  of  broadcloth  for  a  P"'*^  trowsers.  Allen 
made  his  trowsers  himself,  and  uien  built  a  raft,  on 
which  he  went  down  the  river  to  his  own  place  at 
Mount  Morris.  ..    , 

About  that  time  he  married  a  sqliaw,  whose 
name  was  Sally. 

The  Niagara  people  finding  that  he  was  at  his 
own  htiupe,  came  and  took  him  by  surprize  when 
he  least  expected  them,  and  carried  him  to  Niaga- 
ra. Fortunately  for  Kim,  it  so  happened  that  just 
as  thev  arrived  at  the  fort*  a  house  took  lire  and 
his  keepers  all  left  him  to  save  the  building,  if  pos- 
sible. Allen  had  supposed  his  doom  to  be  nearly 
sealed;  but  finding  himstilf  at  liberty  he  took  to 
his  heels,  left  his  escort  to  put  out  the  fire,  and  ran 
to  Tonnawanta.  There  an  Indiah  gave  him  some 
refreshment,  and  a  good  gun,  with  which  he  has- 
tened on  to  Little  Beard^s  Town,  whc  re  he  found 
his  squaw.    Not  daring  to  risk  himself  at  that  place 


■im 


ttwiifealii 


mm 


% 


111 


w 

Mi 


.;*,r 


'V 


■f.  .      ■•  •  it.!    t. 


^.;,,^^V  .LIFE  O¥0^4 


for  fear  of  being  given  up,  he  made  her  but  a  short 
visit,  and  came  immediately  to  Gardow. 

^  Just  as  he  got  to  the  top  of  the  hill  above  the 
Gardow  flats,  he  discovered  a  party  of  British  sol* 
diers  and  Indians  in  pursuit  of  him ;  and  in  fact 
they  were  so  near  that  he  was  satisfied  that  titey 
saw  him,  and  concluded  that  it  would  be  impossible 
for  him  to  escape*  The  love  of  liberty,  however, 
added  to  his  natural  swiftness,  gave  him  sufficient 
strength  to  make  his  escape  to  his  former  castle  of 
safety.  His  pursuers  came  immediately  to  my 
house,  where  they  expected  to  have  found  him 
secreted,  and  under  my  protection.  They  told  me 
where  they  had  se|iM|im  but  a  few  moments  before, 
and  that  they  wernRnfident  that  it  was  within  my 
power  to  put  him  iffto  their  hands.  As  I  was  per- 
fectly clear  of  having  had  any  hand  in  hi^  escape, 
I  told  them  plainly  that  I  had  not  seen  him  since 
he  was  taken  to  Niagara,  and  that  I  could  give 

^,them  no  information  at  all  respecting  him.     Still 

^iinsatisfie^,  and  doubting  my  veracity,  they  advised 
iny  Indian  bi^other  to  use  his  influence  to  draw  from 
me  the  secret  of  his  concealment,  which  they  had 
an  idea  that  I  considered  of  great  importance,  not 
only  to  him  but  to  myself.  I  persisted  in  ray  igno- 
rance of  his  situation,  and  finally  they  left  me. 
*  Although  I  had  not  seen  .illen,  I  knew  his  place 
of  secmity,  and  was  well  aware  that  if  I  told  them 
the  place  where  he  had  Ibrnaedy  hid  himself,  they 
would  have  no  diilculty  in  naking  him  a  prisoner. 
He  came  to  my  liouse  in  the  nighty  and  awoke 
me  with  the  greatest  vi*«iiOn,  tearing  that  some  of 

:  |}is  enemies  mifht  b^  watching  to  tstke  him  at  a 


''4*':.>- 


.v^. 


% 


^iJ.  '.'I  f. 


MARY  JEMISON. 


•#■ 


time  when,  and  in  a  place  where  it  would  he  im- 
possible for  him  to  make  his  escape.  I  got  up  and 
assured  him  that  he  was  then  safe;  but  that  his 
enemies  would  return  early  in  the  morning  and 
search  him  out  if  it  should  be  possible.  Havin'^ 
given  him  some  victuals,  which  he  received  thanks 
fully,  I  told  him  to  go,  but  to  return  the  next  night  ' 
to  a  certain  c«mer  of  the  fence  near  my  house 
where  he  wruld  find  a  quantity  of  meal  that  I  would 
have  well  prepared  and  deposited  there  for  his  use. 

Early  the  next  morning,  Nettles  and  his  compa- 
ny came  in  while  I  was  pounding  the  meal  for 
Allen,  and  insisted  upon  ray  giving  him  up.  I 
again  told  them  that  I  did  not  know  where  he  was, 
and  that  I  could  not,  neither  would  I,  tell  them 
any  thing  about  him.  1  well  knew  that  Allen 
considered  his  life  in  my  hands;  and  although  i| 
was  my  intention  not  to  lie,  I  was  fully  determined 
to  koep  his  situation  a  profound  secret.  They 
continued  their  labor  and  examined  (as  they  sup* 
posed)  every  crevice,  gully,  tree  and  hollow  leg  in 
the  neighboring  woods,  and  at  last  concluded  tlMt 
he  had  left  the  country,  and  gave  him  up  for  Isst, 
and  went  home. 

At  that  time  Allen  lay  in  a  secret  place  inAe 
gulph  a  short  distance  nbm^e  w.v  fiats,  is  a  hriki 
that  he  accidentally  fotsnd  m  the  rock  n^ar  the 
river.  At  night  he  came  and  got  t!^  mem  mxbe 
corner  of  the  fence  as  I  had  directed  him,  afid 
afterwards  lived  in  the  gulph  two  weeks.  Each 
pight  he  came  to  the  pasture  «■§  milked  one  if 
my  cows,  without  any  other  v<mcr^n  wkKh  to  re- 
ceive the  milk  than  his  hat,  out  a€UHrhich  ne^raok 
it.     I  supplied  him  with  meal,  but  fearing  to  buil4 


.'**■; 


^'.\ 


^Mm 


"-«■ 


A 


w  r 


ill: 


wn 


iT 


■^"■'l:  "%    '  ?''.1|P7.'"'  f  ■ 


86 


^..::»i^.: 


IPP"- 


LIFE  OF  Ai4 


v^^-^tl 


a  fire  he  was  obliged  to  eat  it  raw  and  wash  it  down 
with  the  rnilk.  Nettles  having  left  our  neighbor- 
hood, and  Allen  considering  himself  safe,  left  his 
little  cave  and  came  home.  I  gave  him  his  box  of 
money  and  trinkets,  and  he  went  to  his  own  house 
at  Moimt  Morris.  It  was  generally  considered  by 
the  Indians  of  our  tribe,  that  Allen  was  an  innocent 
man,  and  that  the  Niagara  people  were  persecuting 
him  without  a  just  cause.  Little  Beard,  then  about 
to  go  to  the  eastward  on  public  business,  charged 
his  Indians  not  to  meddle  with  Allen,  but  to  let 
him  live  amongst  them  peaceably,  and  enjoy  him- 
self with  his  family  anid  property  if  he  could. 
Having  the  protection  of  the  chief,  he  felt  himself 
safe^  and  let  his  situation  be  known  to  the  whites 
from  whom  he  suspected  no  harm.  They,  how- 
ever, were  more  inimical  than  our  Indians  and  were 
easily  bribed  by  Nettles  to  assist  in  bringing  him  to 
justice^  Nettles  came  on,  and  the  whites,  as  they 
had  agreed,  gave  poor  Allen  up  to  him.  He  was 
bound  and  carried  to  Niagara,  where  he  was  con- 
fined in  prison  through  the  winter.  In  the  spring 
he  was  taken  to  Montreal  or  Quebec  for  trial,  and 
was  honorably  acquitted.  The  crime  for  which  he 
was  tried  was,  for  his  having  carried  the  wampum 
to  the  Americans,  and  therjeby  putting  too  suddcu 
a  stop  to  their  war.  ^  ^  ^^^ 

From  the  place  of  his  trial  he  went  directly  to 
Philadelphia,  and  purchased  on  credit,  a  boat  load 
of  goods  which  he  brought  by  water  to  Conhocton, 
where  he  left  them  and  came  to  Mount  Morris  for 
assistance  to  get  them  brought  on.  The  Indians 
readily  went  with  horses  and  brought  them  to  hi^ 
house;  where  he  disposed  of  his  dry  goods  i  but  not 


:  S(  - 


it    '' 


„*/£, 


-»^»»T  7     '■■■ 


/ 


I 


't'. 


■■zr 


MARY  JEMISON. 


\u. 


fi7 


faring  to  let  the  Indians  begin  to  drink  strong 
liquor,  for  fear  of  the  quarrels  which  would  natur- 
ally follow,  he  sent  iiis  spirits  to  my  place  and  we 
sold  them.  For  his  goods  he  received  ginseng 
roots,  principally,  and  a  few  skins.  Ginseng  at 
that  time  was  plenty,  and  commanded  a  high  price. 
We  prepared  the  whole  that  he  received  for  the 
market,  expecting  that  he  would  carry  them  to 
Philadelphia.  In  that  I  was  disappointed;  for 
when  he  had  disposed  of,  and  got  pay  for  alt  his 
goods,  he  took  the  ginseng  and  skins  to  Niagara, 
and  there  sold  them  and  came  home. 

Tired  of  dealing  in  goods,  he  planted  a  large 
field  of  corn  on  or  near  his  own  land,  attended  to 
it  faithfully,  and  succeeded  in  raising  a  large  crop, 
which  he  harvested,  loaded  into  canoes  and  carried 
down  the  river  to  the  mouth  of  Allen's  Creek,  then 
called  by  the  Indians  Gin-is-a-ga,  where  he  unload- 
ed it,  built  him  a  house,  and  lived  with  his  famWy, 

The  next  season  he  planted  corn  at  that  place 
and  built  a  grist  and  saw  mill  on  Genesee  Falls, 
now  called  Rochester.  ^^^^ 

At  the  time  Allen  built  the  mills,  he  had  an  old 
German  living  with  him  by  the  name  of  Andrews, 
whom  he  sent  in  a  canoe  down  the  river  with  his 
mill  irons.  Allen  went  down  at  the  same  time ; 
but  before  they  got  to  the  mills  Allen  threw  the 
old  man  overboard  and  drowned  him,  as  it  was 
then  generally  believed,  foi  he  was  never  seen  or 
heard  of  afterwards. 

In  the  course  of  the  season  in  which  Allen  built 
his  mills,  he  became  acquainted  with  the  daught^ 
of  a  white  man,  who  was  moving  to  Niagara.  She 
was  handsome,  and  Allen  soon  got  into  her  good 


a 


:mA 


'■ill 


8a 


y 


LIFE  OF 


'^f 


V 


v^:' 


gfaces,  80  that  lie  rtt'Arried  and  to^lhiisr  nome,  to 
be  a  joint  partner  with  Sally,  the  squaw,  whom  she 
had  never  heard  of  titl  Khe  got  home  and  found  her 
in  full  possession ;  but  it  ifvas  too  late  for  her  to 
retrace  the  hasty  steps  she  had  taken,  for  her  father 
had  left  her  in  the  care  of  a  tender  husband  and 
gokie  on.  She,  however,  found  that  she  enjoyed 
at  least  an  equal  half  of  her  husband's  affections, 
and  made  herself  contented.  Her  fathei's  name 
l^iave  forgotten,  but  her's  was  Lucy. 
3  Allen  was  not  contented  with  two  wives,^for  ia  ^ 
short  time  after  he  had  married  Lucy  he  came  up 
to  my  house,  where  he  found  a  young  woman  who 
had  an  old  husband  with  her.  They  had  been  on 
a  long  journey,  and  called  at  my  place  to  recruit 
and  rest  themselves.  She  filled  Allenfs  eye,  and 
he  accordingly  fixed  upon  a  plan  to  get  her  into 
his  possession.  He  praised  his  situation,  enum- 
erated his  advantages,  and  finally  persuaded  the^ 
to  go  home  and  tarry  with  him  a  few  days  at  least, 
and  partake  of  a  part  of  his  comforts.  They  ac- 
cepted his  generous  invitation  and  went  home  with 
him.  But  they  had  been  there  but  two  or  three 
day^^hen  Allen  took  the  old  gentleman  out  to 
vieW  his  flats;  and  as  they  were  deliberately  walk- 
ing on  the  bank  of  the  river,  pushed  him  into  the 
water.  The  old  man,  almost  strangled,  succeeded 
in  getting  out ;  but  his  fall  and  exertions  had  so 
powerful  an  effect  upon  his  system  that  he  died  in 
two  or  three  days,  and  left  his  young  widow  to  the 
protection  of  his  murderer.  She  lived  with  him 
about  one  year  in  a  state  of  concubiiiage  and  then 
left  him. 
How  long  Allen  lived  at  Allen's  Creek  I  atti 


^^^.;jV..^,'vV\.;^;, 


A. 


'■v(. 


.t,\   r*!. 


•»'■■ 


MARY  JEMISON. 


unable  to  state ;  but  soon  after  the  young  widow 
left  Iiim,  he  removed  to  his  old  place  at  Mount 
Morris,  and  built  a  hoUse,  where  he  made  Sally, 
his  squaw,  by  whom  he  had  two  daughters,  a  slave 
to  Lucy,  by  whom  he  had  had  one  son ;  stilly  bow- 
ever,  he  consider^  Sally  to  be  his  wife.    " 

After  Allen  canie  to  Mt.  Morris  at  that  time,  he 
married  a  girl  by  the  name  of  Morilla  Gregory, 
whose  father  at  the  time  lived  on  Genesee  Flats. 
The  ceremony  being  over,  he  took  her  home  to 
live  in  common  with  his  other  wive  i ;  but  his  house 
was  too  small  for  his  family ;  for  Sally  and  Lucy, 
conceiving  that  their  lawful  privileges  would  be 
abridged  if  they  received  a  partner,  united  their 
strength  and  whipped  poor  Morilla  so  cruelly  that 
he  was  obliged  to  keep  her  in  a  small  Indian  house 
a  short  distance  from  his  own,  or  lose  her  entirely. 

Morilla,  before  sh^  left  Mt.  Morris,  had  foMf.(<bil- 
dren.    '':^''         ^V^^-v   .  ^-     i.- '    ,  ^...ts:'*'^*-: 

One  of  Morilla's  sisters  lived  with  Allen  about  a 
^e.ar  after  Morilla  was  married,  and  then  quit  him. 

A  short  time  after  they  all  got  to  living  at  Mt. 
Morris,  Allen  prevailed  upon  the  Chiefs  to  give  to 
his  Indian  children,  a  tract  of  land  four  miles 
square,  where  he  then  resided.  The  Chiefs  gave 
them  the  land,  but  he  so  artfully  contrived  the 
conveyance,  that  he  could  apply  it  to  his  own  use, 
and  by  alienating  his  right,  destroy  the  claim  of 
his  children.  3%^>^ 

Having  secured  the  land,  in  that  way,  to  himself, 
he  sent  his  two  Indian  girls  to  Trenton,  (N.  J.) 
and  his  white  son  to  PhiTadelphin,  for  the  purpose 
of  giving  each  of  them  a  respectable  English  edu- 


cation. 


"f^^      ^     ■   H2 


\:)  /'-.' 


V- 


rr':. 


Mli 


•^rw^ 


0' 


If 


11 


i.;', 


90 


LirE  OF 


^J 


. -v^' 


<^  While  his  children  were  at  school^  he  went  to 
Philadelphia,  and  sold  his  right  to  the  laud  which 
he  had  hegged  of  the  Indians  for  his  children  to 
Robert  Morris.  Af^ei*  that,  he  sent  for  his  daugfb^ 
ters  to  come  home,  which  they  did. 

Having  disposed  of  the  whole  of  his  pr6pai^ 
on  the  Genesee  river,  he  took  his  two  white  wives 
and  their  children,  toj^fether  with  his  effects,  an^ 
removed  to  a  Delaware  town  on  the  river  Dei 
Trench,  in  Upper  Canada.  When  he  left  Mft 
Morris,  Sally,  his  squaw,  insisted  upofi  going  witii 
him,  and  actually  followed  him,  crying  bitterly, 
and  praying  for  his  protection  some  two  or  three 
miles,  till  he  absolutely  bade  her  leave  him,  or  he 
would  punish  her  with  severity.  ^  &  '':.i^''U 

A\  length,  finding  her  case  hopeless,  she  return- 
ed to  the  Indians,    s  -,  Vv^lrfx.  '^f%^^\'p}x^^^:^£^ 

At  the  great  treaty  at  Big  Tree,  one  x)f  Allen^ 
daughters  claimed  the  land  which  he  had  sold  to 
Morris.  The  claim  was  examined  and  decided 
against  her  in  favor  of  Ogden,  Trumbull,  Rogti3 
and  others,  who  were  the  creditors  of  Robert  Mor- 
ris. Allen  yet  believed  that  his  daughter  had  an 
indisputable  right  to  the  land  in  qiiestion,  and  got 
me  to  go  with  mother  Farly,ia  half  Indian  woman^ 
to  assist  him  by  interceding  with  Morris  for  it,  and' 
to  urge  the  propriety  of  her  claim.  We  went  to 
Thomas  Morris,  and  having  stated  to  him  our  bu- 
siness, lie  told  us  plainly  that  he  had  no  land  to 
give  away,  and  that  as  the  title  was  good,  he  nev- 
er would  allow  Allen^  nor  his  heirs,  one  foot,  or 
words  to  that  effect.  We  returned  to  Allen  tH<?r 
answer  we  had  received,,  and  he,  coticeiving  ill 
further  attempts  to^e  useless,  went  home. 


HI 

ITrei 
lwid( 
tola! 


,'■."«)« 


:»s  ••-•.■v: 


T-J. 


91 


^t   MARY  JEMlfeON. 

'"■^■'        ■  '•■•  i'  ^^- 

He  died  af  tHe  Delaware  town,  on  the  river  ue 
Trench,  in  the  year  1814  or  15,  and  lefl  two  white 
widows  and  one  squaw,  wHh  a  number  of  children^ 
to  lament  his  loss.  ^^/^ 

EtLJiis  last  will  he  gave  all  his  property  to  his 
ladHlp  (Morilla,)  and  her  children,  without  pro- 
iridi^^u)  the  least  for  the  support  of  Lucy,  or  any 
of  the  other  members  of  his  family.  Lucy,  soon 
after  his  death,  went  with  her  children  down  the 
Ohio  river,  to  receive  assistance  from  her  friends. 

In  the  revolutionary  war,  Allen  was  a  tory,  and 
by  that  means  became  acquainted  with  our  In- 
dians, when  they  were  in  the  neighborhood  of  his 
native  place,  desolatitig  the  settlements  on  the 
Susquehannah.  In  those  predatory  buttles,  he 
joined  them,  and  (as  I  have  often  heard  the  Ih« 
dians  say,)  for  cruelty  \vns  not  exceeded  by  any  of 
his  Indian  comrades !  /^        ,    v^«^ 

At  one  time,  when  he  was  scouting%'ftfii  trie  In- 
dians in  the  Susquehannah  country,  he  entered  a 
house  very  early  in  the  morning,  where  he  found 
a  man,  his  wife,  and  one  child,  in  bed.  The  man, 
as  he  entered  the  door,  instantly  sprang  on  the 
fioor,  for  the  purpose  of  defending  himself  and  Tif- 
tle  family  ;  but  Allen  dispatched  him  at  one  blowi 
He  then  cut  oif  his  head  and  threw  it  bleeding  in- 
to the  bed  with  the  terrified  woman  y  took  the  lit- 
tle infant  from  its  mother's  bi*east,  and  holding  it 
fay  its  legs,  dashed  its  head  against  the  jamb,  and 
I^"t  the  unhappy  widow  and  mother  to  mourn 
aliVne  over  her  murdered  family.  It  has  been  said 
b)  some,  tliat  after  he  had  killed  the  child,  he 
opened  the  fire  knd  buried  it  under  the  coals  and 
emberst  But  of  that  i  am  not  certiin.    I  have  of- 


■» 


.('A- 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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Sciences 
Corporation 


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m  LIFE  OFf  ^  , 

ten  heard  him  speak  of  that  transaction  with  a 
great  degree  of  sorrow^  and  as  thefou^.e&t  crime  he 
had  ever  committed--<ioe  for  which  I  have  na 
doubt  he  repented. 


>,\     tg'^  •j'.i; 


V  *  'i 


«^=&i 


i« 


CHAPTER  IX. 


.0' 


■■'*■ 


^'■ 


Mrs.  Jemison  has  liberty  togo  to  her  Friends. — Chooses 
;  ,^>,  to  stay. — Her  Jleasons,  fee— ^Her  Indian  Brother 
/  makes  provision  for  her  Settlement. — He  go^s  td 
Grand  River  and  diesv— Her  Love  tor  him,  &c. — She 
is  presented  with  the  Gardow  Reservation. — Istroub- 
led  by  Speculators.—Desciiption  of  tl^e  Soil,  fcc.  of 
^  her  Flats. — Indian  notions  of  the  ancient  Inhabitants 
of  this  Country.  ; 

Soon  after  the  close  of  the  revolutionary  war, 
Imy  Indi;  n  brother,  Kaii-jises-tau-ge-au  (which  be- 
ing interpreted  signifies  Black  Coals,)  offered  me 
^^y  liberty,  and  told  me  that  if  it  was  my  choice  I 
^naight  go  to  my  friends. 

My  son,  Thomas,  was  anxioiiSstliat  I  should  go ; 
and  ojffered  to  go  with  me  j^nd  assist  me  on  the 
journey,  by  taking  care  of  the  younger  children, 
and  providing  food  aswe  travelled  through  the  wil- 
derness. But  the  Chiels  o>f  our  triW,  suspecting 
from  his  a[|tpearanc^i  actions^  and  a  iew  warlike 
,, exploits,  th^t  Thoinas  would  be  a  great  warrior, Ot 
a  good  counsellor,^  refused  to  let  him  leave  them 
on  any  account  whatever. 

To  go  myself,  and  leave  him,  was  ipore  than  1 
fbit  able  to  do ;  for  he  had  been  kiad  to  me^  and 
was  one  on  who^I  placed  gi:e|t  depeadeiuse.''  '.The 


^*'H»' 


*! 

4 


MARY  JEMrSON. 


98 


DO  With  a 
crime  W 
have  na 


-Ghooset 
1  Brother 
goes  tq 

fcc— She 
-Is  trouI>« 
n,  &G.  of 
habitants 


ry  war, 
hich  be- 
ered  me 
choice  I 

)uld  go; 

J  on  the 
hildren, 
thewil- 
pecting 
warJike 
rrior,4r 
?  them 

than  1 
%  and 

The 


Chi^/s  refusing  to  let  him  go,  was  bite  reason  for 
my  resolving  to  stay ;  but  another,  more  powerful, 
if  possible,  was,  that  I  had  got  a  large  family  of 
Indian  ehildren,  that  I  must  take  with  me;  and 
that  iC  I  should  be  so  fortunate  as  to  find  my  rela- 
tives^ ^ey  would  despise  them,  if  not  myself ;  and 
treat  as  as  ene^nies;  or,  at  least  with  a  de- 
gree of  cold  mciifrerence,  which  I  thought  I 
couM  not  endure. 

AtiCibrditigty,  after  II  had  duly  considered  the 
matter,  I  told  my  brother  that  it  was  my  choice  to 
stay  and  spend  the  reminder  of  my  days  with  my 
Indian  fjridrids,  and  live  with  my  fa^iily  as  1  had 
heretofore  4on^'  He  appeared  well  )[>leased  with 
my  resoltitihn^  and  informed  ine,  that  as  that  was 
my  choice^  I  should  have  a  piece  0f  knd  that  I 
could  call  my  own,  where  IcouM  live  unmolested, 
and  haive  som^hig  at  my  decease  to  leave  for 
the  benefit  of  il>y  children. 

Ir  a  short  time  he  made  himself  ready  to  go  to 
Upper  CdtntMla ;  but  before  he  lefl  us,  he  tola  me 
that  he  wouM  speak  to  some  of  the  Chiefs  at  Buf- 
falo, to  attend  mib  great  Council,  which  he  expect- 
ed wpmld  convene  in  a  few  years  at  farthest,  and 
ronvliy  to  me  such  a  trd:et  of  land  as  I  should  se- 
lect. My  brother  left  us,  as  he  had  proposed,  and 
«on  af^er  died  at  Grand  Riv^r. 
Kaujisestaugeau,  was  an  excellent  man,  and  ev- 
er treated  me  with  kindness^  Perhaps  no  one  of 
his  tribe  at  any  time  exceeded  him  in  natural  mild- 
ness of  temper,  and  warmth  and  tenderness  of  af- 
fection. If  he  had  taken  my  Ufe^Bt  the  tim(^  wlualti 
thf  ^vartce  of  the  old  King  inclined  him  to  {ir^lare 
tfi^ mancipation,  it  would  hi.ve  been  Aoae  wWit 


SSL 


wmummm 


w^ 


94 


LIFE  (m^M 


:'^ 


"^S' 


ii^'^:: 


r 


«.;><.■ 


pure  heart  and  from  good  motives.  He  loved  his 
fViends ;  and  was  generally  beloved.  During  the 
time  that  I  lived  in  the  family  with  him,  he  never 
ofifered  the  most  trifling  abuse;  Oii  the  contrary,  bis 
whole  conduct  towarios  me  was  strictly  honorable, 
I  mourned  his  loss  aei  that  of  a  tender  brothe^^^  and 
shall  recollect  him  through  life  with  emotion^  of 
friendship  and  gratitude. 

1  lived  undisturbed,  without  hearing  a  word  on 
the  subject  of  my  land,  till  trie  great  CotihcH  inras 
held  at  Big  Tree,  in  1797>  when  Farmer^s  6rotH> 
er^  whose  Indian  name  is  Ho-na-ye-wus,  sent  for 
iiie  to  attend  the  council.  When  I  got  there,  he 
told  me  that  my  brother  had  spoken  to  him  to  see 
^that  I  had  a  piece  of  land  reserved  for  myus^; 
and  that  then  was  the  time  for  me  to  receive  it*-* 
He  requested  that  I  would  choose  for  myself  and 
describe  the  bounds  of  a  piece  that  would  siiit  me. 
I  accordingly  told  him  the  plai^  Qf  beginning, and 
then  went  roond  a  tract  tnat  1  judged  wpuld  be 
sufficient  for  my  purpose,  (knowing  that  it  would 
include  the  Gardow  Flats^)  by  stating  certain 
bounds  with  which  I  was  acquainted. 

When  the  Council  was  opened,  and  the  busi- 
ness afforded  a  proper  opportunity,  Farmer's 
Brother  presented  my  claim,  and  rehearsed  the  re- 
quest of  my  .brother*  Red  Jacket,  whose  Indi 
name  is  Sagu-yu-what-hah,  which  interpreted 
Keeper-awake,  opposed  me  or  my  claim  with 
his  influence  and  eloquence.  Farmer's  Brother 
insisted  upon  the  necessity,  propriety  and  expedi- 
ency of  his  proposition,  aiid  got  the  land  granted. 
The  deed  was  made  and  signed,  securing  to  me 
the  title  to  all  tfa^  land  I  had  described  ^  iKi^r  the 


i:*^. 


A. 


>uriflg  the 
he  never 

onorable, 
the|;.aiid 
»otioo$  of  5 

word  on 
incil  was 
s  Brotfe. 
sent  for 
fjere,  he 
01  to  isee 
my  U8^  j 
!ve  it*^ 
se!f  and 
suit  me, 

»ng,and 
'QuId  be 
t  would 
pertain 

le  bu&i- 
irmer's 
the  re- 
Indi 
ted 

ruther 
cpedi- 
mted. 
^^me 
^rthe 


'■.-^    ^ 


MARY  JEMISON. 


95 


same  restrictions  and  ret^ulations  that  other  Indian 
lands  are  subject  to. 

Th^tland  has  ever  since  been  known  by  the 
name  of  the  Gardow  Tract. 

Red  Jacket  not  only  opposed  my  claim  at  the 
Council,  but  he  withheld  ray  paoney  two  or  three 
yearo^  on  the  ucoount  of  my  lands  having  been 
grah(«d  without  Ji Is  consent.  Parrish  and  Jones 
at  iengdi  convinced  him  that  it  was  tlie  white  pea- 
pie,  and  not  the  Indians  who  had  given  me  the 
land,  and  compelled  him  to  pay  over  all  the  mon* 
ey  which  he  had  retained  on  my  account. 

My  land  derived  its  name,  Gardow,  from  a  hill 
that  is  within  its  limits,  which  is  called  in  the  Sen* 
eca  language  Kau-tam.  Kautam  when  interpreted 
signifies  up  and  down,  or  down  and  up,  and  is 
applied  to  a  hill  that  you  will  ascend  and  descen 
in  passing  it;  or  to  a  valley.  Tt  has  been  said  that 
Gardow  was  the  name  of  my  husband  Hiokatoo, 
and  that  my  land  derived  its  name  from  hirj;  that 
however  was  a  mistake,  for  the  old  man  always 
considered  Gardow  a  nickname,  and  was  uniformly 
oHended  when  called  by  it. 

About  three  hundred  acres  of  my  lahd,  when  I 
first  saw  it,  was  open  flats,  lying  on  the  Genesee 
River,  which  it  is  supposed  was  cleared  by  a  race 
of  inhabitants  who  preceded  the  first  Indian  settle- 
ments in  this  part  of  the  country.  The  Indians 
are  confident  that  many  parts  of  this  country  were 
settled  and  for  a  number  of  yeai^  occupied  by  peo- 
ple of  whom  their  fathers  never  had  any  tradition, 
83  they  never  had  seen  them.  Whence  those  peo- 
ple originated,  and  whither  they  went,  I  have  never 
heard  one  of  our  oldest  and  wisest  Indians  pretend 


,ii*.-^y^BiS? 


■^-^^^«f- 


m^ 


w^m'^:' 


vr» 


96 


LIFE  OF 


to  ffue«s.  When  I  first  came  to  Geimhau,  ^  hnk 
of  Fall  Brook  !iad  just  siid  off  and  exposed  a  large 
number  of  human  bones,  #bich  the  Indiana  said 
were  buried  there  long  before  their  fathers  ever 
taw  the  place;  and  that  tliey  did  not  know  whc: 
kind  of  people  they  were.  It  however  was  tfid  isf 
believed  by  our  peoplei  that  they  were  not  Iiidtes. 
My  fiats  were  extremely  fertitef  but  needed), 
more  labor  than  my  daughters  and  nnyself  weiii 
able  to  perform,  to  produce  a  sufficient  qo«ii^^l»( 
grain,  find  other  necessary  productions  of  the  eMbL 
for  the  consumption  of  our  family.  The  land  haa 
lain  uncultivated  so  long  that  it  was  thickly  covered 
with  weeds  of  almost  eveiy  descriptiosi.  In  ordet 
^hat  we  might  live  more  easy,  Mr.  Parrish^  with  the 
consent  of  the  chiefs,  gave  me  liberty  to  lease  or 
^let  my  land  to  white  people  to  till  on  shares.  I 
-Accordingly  let  it  put,  and  have  continued  to  do  so, 
which  makes  my  task  less  burthensome,  wlnle  at 
th^  same  time  I  am  more  comfortably  suppHed 
with  the  means  of  support. 


:.;':'i^-  !.;'* 


*.S-kV'..'.. 


CHAPT 


Happy  situation  of  her  FWrtily. — Disagreement  between 
her  sons  Thomas  and  John. — Her  Advice  to  them, 
fee. — John  kills  Thomas. — Her  Affliction. — Council. 
Decision  of  the  Chiefs,  foe— Life  of  Thomas. — His 
Wives,  Children,  &tc.--Cause  of  his  Death,  fee. 
■I--  -     '  ■  ■    ♦  -  • .  ,  ■ 

I  HAVE  fVequentiy  heard  it  asserted  by  white 

people,  and  can  truly  say  from  my  own  experience, 


;>..:.<'• 


^^■' 


MARY  JEMISON. 


97 


that  t)ie  time  at  which  parents  take  the  most  satis- 
faction and  comfort  with  their  families  is  when 
their  children  are  young,  incapable  of  providi|Tg 
for  their  own  wants,  and  are  about  the  fireside^ 
where  they  can  be  daily  observed  and  instructed* 

Few  mothers,  perbaps,  have  bad  less,  trouble 
with  their  childifeii  during  their  mihonty  than  my- 
self* In  general,  my  children  wisre  friiendly  to 
each  otbei!!,  and  it  was  very  seldom  that  I  knew 
the^tohava  the  least  difiference  or  qurtrrel:  so 
fai*^  indeed,  were  they  from  rendering  tbeinselve9 
on  me  uncomfortable,  that  I  considered  myself 
happy-*-more  so  than  commonly  falls  to  the  lot  of 
parents,  especidly  to  women. 

My  happiness  in  this  respect,  however,  was  not 
without  allay ;  for  my  son  Thomas,  from  some 
cause  unknown  io  me,  from  the  time  he  was  n 
small  lad,  always  called  his  brother  John^  a  witch, 
which  was  the  cause,  as  they  grew  towards  man^ 
hoody  of  frequent  and  severe  quarrels  between 
them,  and  gave  me  much  trouble  and  anxiety  for 
their  safety.  After  Thomas  and  John  arrived  to 
manhood,  tri  addition  ta  the  former  charge,  John 
got  two  wives,  with  whom  he  lived  till  the  time  of 
his  death.  Although  polygamy  was  tolerated  in 
our  tribe,  Thomas  considered  it  a  violation  of  good 
and  wholesome  rules  in  society,  and  tending  di- 
rectly to  destroy  that  irtendly  social  intercourse 
and  love,  that  ought  to  be  the  happy  result  of  mpt- 
rimony  andi  chastity.  Consequently^  he  frequent- 
ly reprimanded  John,  by  tc^lling  him  that  his 
conduct  was  beneath  the  dignt^,  i^nd  inconsistent 
with  the  jprinc^ples  of  good  Indup^ ;  indecent  and 
unbecoiHilig  a  gentleman ;  and,  as  be  never  qould 

I 


"^NP^HWI 


^PPP 


98 


•% 


LIFE  OP 


reconcile  himself  to  it,  he  was  frequently,  almost 
constantly,  when  they  were  together,  talking  to 
him  on  the  same  suljjeet.  John  always  resented 
such  reprimand,  and  reproof,  with  a  great  de* 
greei>f  passion,  though  they  never  quarfelled,  iin<' 
less  Thomas  was  intoxicated. 

In  his  fits  of  drunkenness,  Thomas  s^med  to 
lose  all  his  natural  reason,  and  to  conduct  like  a 
wild  or  cra^y  man,  without  regard  to  relntivea,  «te- 
cenqy  or  propriety.  At  such  times  he  often  tikreat^ 
ened  to  take  my  Hie  for  having  raised  a  witch,  («8 
be  called  John,;  and  has  gone  so  far  as  to  raise  his 
toi^^awk  to  split  my  head.  He,  however,  never 
,striji%  me ;  but  on  John's  account  he  struck  Hiok-^ 
atoo,  and  thereby  excited  in  John  a  high  degree  of 
indignation,  which  was  extinguished  only  by 
blood. 

For  a  number  of  years  their  difficulties,  and 
consequent  unhappiness,  continued  and  rather- ;;:> 
creased,  continually  exciting  in  my  breast  the  most 
fearful  apprehensions,  and  greatest  anxiety  for 
their  safety.  With  tears  in  my  eyes,  I  advised 
them  to  become  reconciled  to  each  other,  and  to 
be  friendly ;  told  them  the  consequences  of  their 
continuing  to  cherish  so  nviik  malignity  and  mal- 
ice, that  it  would  end  in  their  destruction,  the  dis* 
grace  of  their  families,  and  bring  me  down  to  the 
grave.  No  one  can  conceive  of  the  constant 
trouble  that  I  daily  endured  on  their  account^— on 
the  account  of  my  two  oldest  sons,  whom  I  loved 
equally,  and  with  a]|||he  feelings  and  affection  of 
a  tender  mother,  ^i^lated  by  an  anxious  con- 
cern for  their  fkti^jflirents,  mothers  especially, 
will  love  their  childb^,  though  ever  so  unkind  and 


i. 


^•i'i^n,v 


MARY  JEMISON. 


99 


disobedient.  Their  eyes  of  compassion,  of  real 
sentimental  affection,  will  be  involuntarily  extend- 
ed after  them,  in  their  greatest  excesses  of  iniqai* 
ty;  and  tliose  fine  filaments  of  consanguinity, 
which  gehtly  entwine  themselves  around  the  heart 
where  nlial  love  and  parental  care  Is  equal,  will  be 
lengthened,  and  enlarged  to  cords  seemingly  of 
sufficient  strength  to  reach  and  reclaim  the  wan- 
derer. I  know  that  such  exercises  are  frequently 
unavailing;  but,  notwithstanding  their  ultimate 
failure,  it  still  remains  true,  and  ever  will,  that  the 
bve  of  a  parent  for  a  disobedient  child,  will  in- 
crease, and  grow  more  and  more  ardent,  so  long  as 
a  hope  of  its  reformation  is  capable  pf  stimmting 
a  disappointed  breast* 

My  advice  and  erpostulatiens  with  my  sons 
were  abortive ;  and  year  after  year  their  disaffec- 
tion for  eaeb  other  increased.  At  length,  Thoni* 
as  came  to  my  house  on  the  1st  day  of  July,  1811, 
in  my  absence,  somewhat  intoxicated,  where  he 
found  John,  with  whom  he  immediately  commen- 
ced a  quarrel  on  their  old  subjects  of  differences- 
John's  anger  became  desperate*^  He  caught 
Thomas  by  the  hmt  of  his  head,  dragged  him.out 
at  the  door  and  ther^iylled  him,  by  a  blow  which 
he  gave  him  on  the  H^ad  with  his  tomahawk! 

I  returned  soon  after,  and  found  ikys^n  lifeless 
at  the  doer,  on  the  spot  whc^e  he  was  killed  I  No 
one  can  judge  of  my  feelings  on  seeing  this  mourn- 
ful spectacle ;  and  what  grei^y  added  tp  my  dis- 
tress, was  the  fact  that  he  had  fallen  by  the  mur- 
derous hand  of  his  brother  T  I  fe^  my  situation  un- 
supportable.  Having  paftse4^  through  various 
scenes  of  trouble  of  the  most  cri|^l  and  trying  kind, 


•   .100 


^fi^—g^^i<.,wmf'. .  v<n^.  ^.^u^iM.^mv^r 


LIFE  OF 


I  had  hoped  to  spend  tny  few  remaining  days  in 
<)Uietude,  and  to  die  in  peace,  surrounded  by  my 
familf;.  ^Tliis  fatal  event,  liowever,  seemed  to  be 
a  s^tiieani  tif  woe  poured  into  my  eup  of  afflictions, 
iMUng  it  even  to  overflowing,  and  blasting  all  my 
prospects* 

As  soon  as  I  had  recovered  a  little  fVonri  the 
shock  which  I  feh  at  the  sight  of  my  departed  sotk, 
and  some  of  my  tieighbors  had  come  in  to  toeki 
in  taking  care  of  th^  corpse,  I  hired  Shanks^  an 
ifiidiatiytojgo  to  Buffalo,  and  carry  the  sorrowM 
news  0f  Thomas'  death,  to  our  friends  at  that 
plai^imd  request  the  Chiefs  to  hold  a  Council, 
intt^mpose  of  John  as  they  should  think,  proper. 
Shanks  set  out  on  his  errand  immediately,  and 
#ohfi,  feiiring  that  he  should  be  apprehended  and 
punished  for  the  crime  he  had  committed,  at  the 
same  tinne  lirent  off  toviards  Caneadea.- 

Thomis  ims  decently  interred  in  a  style  corres- 
pdnding  with  his  rank. 

The  Chiefs  soon  assembled  in  council  on  the 
triul  of  John,  and  after  having  seriously  examined 
the  matter  according  to  their  laws,  justified  his 
conduct,  and  acquitted  him.  They  considered 
Thomas  to  have  been  the  first  transgressor,  and 
that  for  the  abuses  which  he  had  offered,  he  had 
merited  firom  John  the  treatment  that  he  had  re- 
ceived. 

John,  on  learning  the  decision  of  the  council,  r^** 
turned  to  his  family.  i| 

Thomas  (except  when  intoxicated,  which  was 
net  frequent^  was  B  kind  and  tender  child,  willing 
to  assist  me  iii  myjabor,  and  to  remove  every  ob- 
stacle to  n)y  com&Vt.    His  natural  abilities  were 


f'^^4^-^S>'<''t  MARY  JfiMISQN., 


101 


( /■ 


said  to  be  of  a  superior  cast,  and  he  soared  above 
the  trifling  subjects  of  revenge^  which  are  common 
amongst  Indians,  as  being  far  beneath  his  atten- 
tion. In  his  childish  ^ud  boyisb  days,  his  natural 
turn  wi^s  to  pcacti|e  in  the  art  of  war,  though  be 
despised  the  cru^ties  that  the  warriors  inflicted 
upon  their  subjugated  enemie9.  He  was  manly  in 
bis  deportment,  courageous  and  active  ;  and  com- 
manded respect.  Though  he  appeared  well  pleas- 
ed with  peace,  he  was  cunninff  in  lodtan  warfare^ 
and  succeeded  to  admiration  m  the  execution  of 

his  plans.  ^L'.- 1       ^  ■.■^%,  •  * '  * 

At  the  age  of  fourteen  or  fifteen  years,  bv  weiit 
into  the  war  with  manly  fortitude,  armecf'iHth  a 
tomahawk  and  scalping  knife;  and  when  here- 
turned,  brought  one  white  man  a  prisoner,  whom 
he  had  taken  with  his  own  hands,  on  the  west 
branch  of  the  Susquehannah  river.  It  so  happen- 
ed, that  as  he  was  looking  out  for  his  enemies,  he 
discovered  two  men  boiling  sap  in  the  woods.  He  ^ 
watched  them  unperceived,  till  dark  when  he  ad- 
vanced with  a  noiseless  step  to  where  they  were 
standing,  caugblt  one  of  them  before  they  were 
apprized  of  danger,  and  conducted  him  to  the 
camp.  He  was  well  treated  while  a  prisoner,  anij 
redeemed  at  the  dose  of  the  war. 
:^  At  the  tin[ic  ifcaujisestaugfeau  gave  me  my  liberie 
ty  to  go  to  my  friends,  Thomas  was  anxious  to  go 
with  me ;  but  as  I  have  befoniiobserved,  the  Chiefe 
would  not  suffer  him  to  leave  them  on  the  account 
of  his  courage  and  skill  in  wsir:  expecting  that 
they  should  need  his  assistance.  He  was  a  great 
Counsellor  and  a  Chief  when  (Ifite  young;  and  in 
he  last  capacity,  went  two  or  tliJree  times  to  Phila- 


<ir 


■^i^^ 


'i\ 


-ICTfW 


-„     ji    ,;iiii" 


wm^ 


¥PP 


I0£ 


LIFE  OF 


delpfiia  to  assist  in  making  treaties  with  the  peo- 
ple of  the  states. 

Thomas  had  four  wives,  by  whom  he  had  eight 
children.  Jacob  Jemison,  his  second  son  bv  his 
last  wife,  who  is  at  this  time  twelity-seven  or  wei^ 
ly-eight  3rears  of  age,  went  to  Dar^nouth  coHe^e, 
in  thespHng  of  1816,  for  the  purpose  of  receiving 
a  good  education,  where  it  was  said  that  he  wai  an 
industrious  scholar,  and  made  sreat  proficiency  in 
the  study  of  the  different  branches  to  which  he  at- 
tended. Having  spent  two  years  at  that  Institu- 
tion, he  returned  in  the  winter  of  1818,  and  is  now 
at  Bu^j^o ;  where  I  heve  understood  that  he  con- 
temples  conimencinjg  the  study  of  medicine^^  as  a 
profession.  '  '^^^^■'f^m:U.^Hi^^-:k-fJ^   ;" , 

Thomqs,  at  the  time  he  was  killed,  was  a  few 
moons  oveflr  fifty-two  years  old,  and  John  was  for- 
ty-eight. As  he  was  naturally  good  natured,  and 
possessed  a  friendly  disposition,  he  would  nor  have 
come  to  so  untimely  an  end,  had  it  not  been  for 
his  intemperance.  He  fell  a  victim  to  the  use  ^ 
ardent  spirits^ — a  poison  that  will  soon  exterminate 
the  Indian  tribes  in  this  part  of  the  country,  and 
leave  tdeir  names  without  a  root  or  branch.  The 
thought  is  melancholy ;  but  no  arguments,  no  ex- 
Mnpies,  however  persuasive  or  impressive,  are  suffi-  * 
cient  to  deter  an  Indian  for  an  hour  from  taking 
the  potent  draught,  which  he  knows  at  the  time 
will  derange  his  faculties,  reduce  him  to  a  level 
with  the  beasts,  or  deprive  htm  of  life ! 


•v-r'- 


peo- 

siglit 

tWeM- 


•4^ 


MARY  JEMISON. 


itis 


*J 


',*^' 


^^^,4!^?-"?:K^  CHAPTER  XL 

Deyth'of' moW6o.-7Bw«aji»W.~Hi^^ 
cation.— Goes  against  the  Cherokees,  kc—Bioo^f 
Battle,  lie— His  succewi  and  cruelties  in  (tie  Fr'endn 
War.*-Battle  at  Fort  Preeland.—Capti.  Doiigheity 
and  Boon  killed. — His  C'  lelties  inthe  neigtiborhodd 
of  Cherry  Valley,  fcc. — Indians  remove  their  general 
Enfeampment. — In  1782,  Col.  Crawford  is  sent  ;i> 
destroy  them,  &ic. — Is  met  by  a  Traitoi, — Batti< .  - 
Crawford's  Men  surprized. — Irregular  Retreat — 
Crawford  and  Doct.  Night  taken. — Council.-  Ora^'^- 
ford  Condemv»e'i  and  Burnt. — Aggravating  i^ircujn- 
stances. — Night  is  sentenced  to  be  Burnt. — IsPiirtT-' 
ed  by  Hmkatoo. — Is  conducted  off,   &lc. — fl?s  Ir>rtt|» 
nate  Escape. — Hiokatoo  in  the  Freiich  'Wartal:*?^ 
Col.  Canton.— His  Sentence.— Is  bound  on  a  wild' 
Colt  that  runs  loose  three  days. — Returns  Alive.— Isr 
made  to  run  the  Gauntlet. — Gets  knocked  down-,  - 
fcc. — Is  Redeemed   and   sent  Home.— Hiokatoo's 
Enrpity  to    the  Cherokees,  Sic. — His  Height — ^. 
Stt-ength— Speed,  &1C. -^^I, 


Jt-vt- 


In  tlie  inontK  of  Nov6int)er  18H,  my  husban^ 
tliokatoo,  who  had  been  sick  four  years  of  the 
consurnptioD,  died  at  the  advanced  age  of  Qpe 
hundred  and  three  yeitirs,  as  nearly  as  the/^ili^e 
could  be  estimated.  He  was  the  last  that  reMj3!xi-_ 
ed  to  me  of  our  family  connection,  or  rather  pfmy 
old  friends  with  whom  I  wa^sidopted,exceptapart 
of  one  famiiy,  which  now  lives  at  Tonewanta. 

Hiokatoo  was  buried  decently,  and  had  all  the 
insignia  of  a  veteran  warrior  burled  with  h\uy  coi)- 
sisting  of  a  war  ciubi  tomahawtc  and  scalpibg  kiiill^i 


"':yh, 


x^:^' 


104 


f'lfc  ■ 


'4 


LIFE  OF 


^€ 


■V 


a  powclei>flask,  Hint,  a  piece  of  spunk,  a  small 
cake  and  a  cup^  and  in  his  best  cbtliing.^ 

Hiokatoo  was  an  old  man  wheii  I  first  saw  him; 
but  lie  was  by  no  means  enervated.  During  the 
ttetrin  of  nearly  fifty  years  that  I  lived  with  him,  I 
received,  according  to  Indian  customs,  all  the  kind- 
ness and  attention  that  was  my  due  as  his  wife«^^ 
Although  war  was  his  trade  from  his  youth  till  old 
age  and  decrepitude  stopt  his  career,  he  uniformly 
treated  me  with  tenderness,  and  never  offered  an 


m 


,  tiit/t* 


#?^^%^%j- 


f. 


^X 


insult.     ,._  .    . 

I  have  fre(Juently  heard  him  repeat  the  history 
of  his  life  from  his  childhood ;  and  when  he  came 
to  that  part  which  rt'uted  to  his  actions,  his  bravery 
and  his  valor  in  war ;  when  he  spoke  of  the  am- 
^bush,  the  combat,  the  spoiling  of  his  enemies  and 
the  sacrifice  of  the  victims,  his  nerves  seemtjd 
strung  with  youthful  ardor,  the  warmth  of  the  able 
warrior  seemed  to  animate  his  frame,  and  to  produce 
the  heated  gestures  which  he  had  practised  in  mid- 
die  age.  He  was  a  man  of  tender  feelings  to  his 
friends,  ready  and  willing  to  assist  them  in  distress, 
yet,  as  a  warrior,  his  cruelties  to  his  enemies  per- 
haps were  unparalleled,  and  will  not  admit  a  word 
of  palliation-     Ai  y/''\:i^.-ij.:j^- , 

Hiokatoo,  was  born  in  onfe'of  the  tribes  of  the 
Six  Nations  that  inhabited  the  banks  of  the  Sus- 
4iuehannah ;  or,  rather  he  belonged  to  a  tribe  of 
the  Senecas  that  made,  at  the  time  of  the  great 
Indian  treaty,  a  part  of  those  nations.  He  was  own 
cousin  to  Farmer's  Brdther,  a  Chief  who  has  beei|| 
justly  celebrated  for  Jiis  worth.  Their  mothers 
were  sisters,  and  it  was  through  the  influence  of 
Farmer's  Brother,  that  I  became  Hiokatoo's  wife. 


^      -iV.   ■»  ■.  ■ 


Vj 


■wtss^" 


H  MAItr  JfiMI^ON.  U5 

#ln  early  lifb/lihl>kiitob  slitmed  signs  of  Atrsclbt 
blood,  by  attending  oiiiy  to  the  art  of  war,  in  thf 
uieof  th6  toniali&#^  and  i^dping  knife  ^  and  in 
practising  criieM^t  tifon  every  thing  that  chati^ 
to  M\  into  hi8fianii|%l|ich  was  susceptible^ p^in. 
In  that  way  he  t^eiiiliejl  to  u^e  his  itiipleinents  <^ 
war  efi^ctitally^  atit  at  the  slnne  tiri^e  bhinted  alt 
those  fine  feelings  and  tender  sympf^ies  ihfiit  ain^ 
nati^faliy  excited,  by  hewing  or  se|ln^>  a  leli^ 
being  in  distress.  lie  could  inflict  the  tiiostexc^a- 
ciattng  tortures  upon  his  eit^ttiies,  atid  ]k?ided  him^ 
self  upon  his  fortitude,  in  Mvfh^  peilbrmed  idi0 
mosl  barbarous  (Ceremonies  and  id^ures,  Withoi^ 
the  leaiidegiree  of  pity  or  remorsipi.  'Thus  qualille^, 
when  very  young  he  was  initiated  into  scene!  tf 
carnage,  by  hein^  engaged  in  the  wars  diat  pre- 
vailed amotigst  the  Indian  tribes. 

In  the  year  ITSI,  he  Was  appointed  a  runner,  to 
assist  in  COlI^ing  an  annv  to  g0  against  th4 
Cotawpes,  Cherokees  and  other  sbuthern  Indiana. 
A  lar^eariny  was  collected,  and  aller  a  Ipng  add 
fatiguing  itiarch,  met  its  enemies  i^  PfhM  w^  then 
called  the  <' low, dark  and  bloody  lailds>^'  nesurlh^ 
mouth  of  Red  River,  in  what  is  now  called  the  state 
of  Kentucky.*    The  Cotawpest  and  their  assocl- 

*  Those  powerful  armies  mst  mkr  the  pliiCc  tfejitif  tibw 
called  ClarksvUle,  which  is  sittiP.ted  tit  the  fbrk  where  Red 
River  joins  the  Cumberland,  a  few  niiies  above  the  line 
between  Kerrtucky  an«](  Tentaessee,  x^^ 

~t  The  Author  acknowledges  himself  unacquaintlrd,  from 
Indian  history,  with  a  nation  of  this  name;  but  as  90  yearsr 
have  elapsed  since  the  date  of  (his  oiMHirrence,   it  is  highly^  ^ 
probable  that  such  a  nation  did  exist;  and  that  it  was  ^9b- 
lulely  ext«!rminated  at  thai  eventful  period.  ^  ;       i  -  ^     ^ 


"wr- 


wf^fwmsm' 


iJP    ^.|"W>| 


tmr 


mmm 


^am 


106 


LIFE  OF 


i^-i. 


BtJS9f  had,  by  some  means,  been  apprized  of  their 
approach,  and  lay  in  amb«ish  to  talc^  them  at  once, 
when  they  shdu Id  cotYi^  within  their  reach,  and 
destroy  the  whole  army.  The  rioil!hem  Indians, 
with  tiieif  usual  sagacity,  disjc^vered  the  situation 
of  their' enemies,  rushed  upon  the  ambuscade  and 
massacred  1200  on  the  spot  The  hatt.*«  continued 
for  two  days  and  two  nights,  with  the  otmost 
severity,  in  which  the  northern  fndinrts  were  vieto- 
rious,  and  so  far  succeeded  in  destroying  ihM 
Cotawpes  that  they  at  that  tifne  ceased  to 'be  a- 
nation.  The  victors  8uSer*ed  i^n  immense  loss  in 
killed^bbt  gained  the  hunting  ground,  which  was 
^  their  grand  pl^ect,  though  the  Cherokees  would 
not  giVe  it  uj^ln  a  treaty,  or  consent  to  make  peace. 
Bows  aiid  arrows,  at  that  tiriNe,A^r^  in  general  use, 
though  a  few  guns  were  dm  ployed. 

From  that  time  he  #as  engaged  in  a  number  of 
battles  ip  which  Indians  only  were  engaged,  and 
made  fighting  his  business,  till  the  ikimmencement 
of  the  French  war.  In  those  battles  he  took  a 
number  of  Indians  prisoners,  whom  he  killed  by 
tying  them  to  treeis  and  then  setting  small  Indian 
boys  to  shooting  at  them  with  arrows,  till  death 
finished  the  misery  of  the  sufferers ;  a  process  that 
frequently  took  two  days  for  \u  completion ! 

During  the  French  war  he  was  in  every  battle 
that  was  fought  o)1  the  Susquehannah  and  Ohio 
rivers ;  and  was  so  fortunate  as  never  to  iiave  been 
taken  prisoner.  s 

At  Braddock^s  defeat  he  took  two  white  prisal- 
ers,  and  burnt  them  alive  in  a  (ire  of  his  own  kind' 

In  1777,  he  was  in  the  battle  at  Fort  Freehind, 


• 


■:m^ 


'>■.*,•  .4- 


J4ARY  JEMISON. 


iibr 


in  Northumberland  county,  Penr^.  The  fort  cpth 
tained  a  great  Dumber  of  women  and  chiidren,  alid 
was  defended  oiily  by  a  small  garrison.  The  force 
that  went  against  it  consisted  of  100  British  .vigiu- 
lars,  commanded  Ma  Col.  JVlcDonald,  and  300 
Indians  iinder  M(iQK^too.  After  a  short  but  bloody 
engagement,  the  ^rt  was  surrendered ;  the  womea 
and  chitdreu  were  sent  under  an  escort  to  the  nes^t 
fort  helow,  and  the  men  and  bovs  tstken  off  by  a 
party  of  British  to  the  general  Indian  encampment* 
As  soon  as.  the  fort  had  capitulated  and  ihe  firing 
had  ceased,  Hiokatoo  with  the  help  of  a  few  Indians 
tomahawked  every  wounded  American  while  earn- 
estly begging  with  uplifted  hands  for  quarters. 

The  massacre  was  but  just  finished  when  Capts. 
Dougherty  and  Boon  arrived  with  a  reinforcement 
to  assis),  the  garrison.  On  their  arriving  in  sight 
of  the  fort  they  saw  that  it  had  surrendered,  and 
that  an  Indian  was  holding  the  flag.  This  so  much 
inflamed  Ca^  Dougherty  that  he  left  his  command, 
slept  forwardand  j»t)ot  the  Indian  at  the  first  fire* 
Another  took  the  flag,  and  had  no  sooner  got  it 
erected  than  Dougherty  dropt  him  as  he  had  the 
first.  A  third  presume(|  to  hold  it,  who  was  also 
shot  down  by  Dougherty.  Hiokatoo,  exasperated 
at  the  sightof  such  bravery,  sallied  out  witli  a  party 
of  his  Indians,  and  killed  Capts.  D6ugherty,  Boon, 
and  fourteen  men,  at  the  first  fire.  The  remainder 
of  the  two  companies  escaped  by  taking  to  flight, 
and  soon  arrived  at  the  fort  which  they  had  left 
but  a  few  hours  before. 

In  an  expedition  that  went  out  against  Cherry 
Valley  and  the  neighboring  settlemenis,  Captain 
Pavidy  a  Mohawk  Indian,  was  first,  and  Hiokatoo 


%-'i-..y^-~ 


■,'V 


oaiuflMiM 


mmm 


*■'■ 


|.  * 


n  ■ 


?•»■* 


LIFE  OF     :^'i 


J' 


^ 


>,'M- 


^jecoml  in  ct»minan4.  The  foive  consitied  of 
aiJTal  hundred  fiidians,  who  wer^  determined  on 
no^hief,  and  the  destruction  of  the  whites.  A 
coii^nued  series  of  wantonneisii  and  barbarity  char- 
acterized  their  career^  for  they  plundered  and  burnt 
every  thing  that  cam^,  in  their  w^y,  and  killed  a 
number  of  persons,  among  whom  were  several  in* 
^nts,  whom  Hiokatoo  butchered  or  dashed  upon 
i)ie  stones  with  his  own  hands.  Besides  the  instan-f 
oea  which  have  been  mentioned,  he  was  in  a  num« 
.^er  <if  parties  during  the  revolutionary  war.  v;here 
he  ever  acted  a  conspicuous  part^ 

The  Indians  having  removed  the  seat  of  their 
depredations  and  war  to  the  frontiers,  of  Pennsyl** 
^anidi  Ohio,  Kentucky  and  the  neighboring  t^rri« 
lories^  assembled  a  large  force  at  Upper  Sandusky, 
their  place  of  general  mdezvousi,  fro^  whence 
they  went  out  to  the  various  places  which  they 
designed  to  sacnfice.  .^.^^^  ^,^,^^ 
^^  Tired  of  the  desolatihg  scenes  that  wjpre  s^  often 
witnessed,  and  feeling  a  confidence  th^t  the  savages 
might  be  subdued,  and  an  end  put  to  their  crimes, 
,|he  American  government  raised  a  regiment,  con- 
l^8ting  of  300  volunteers,  for  tlie  purpose  of  dislodg-> 
}ng  them  from  their  canton  i;n^nt  and  preventing 
furtlier  barbarities.  Col.  William  Crawford  and 
Xfieut.  Col.  David  Williamson,  men  who  had  been 
(thoroughly  tried  and  approved,  were  commissioned 
by  Gen.  Washington  to  take  the  command  of  a 
service  that  seemed  all-important  to  the  welfare 
the  country.  In  the  month  of  July,  17B2,  wi 
armed  and  provided  with  a  sufficient  quantity 
provision,  this  regiment  made  an  expeditious  march 
through  the  wilderness  to  Upper  Sandusky,  wherej 


'W 


•.<». 


-m 


UhsV. 


-•-t 


MARY  JEIIHSON.  im 

fts'hiitflbieen  nntkskMitecly  they  iMpHhe  ImliailQ^ 
iissenibled  in  full  &ne  at  their  encanipmeRt^  p0^ 
pared  to  recetvej^  littiick. 

As  Col  Crftw1^r4p^his  brave  band  advanced, 
and  when  the^fliil  got  within  a  abort  distance 
from  the  ta#ii,  they  were  met  by  a  white  man, 
with  a  fiag  oftruce  fVom  the  Ifidiaos,  who  propoAed 
toCk)l.  Cirawford  that  if  he  would  »ttrrenaer  him** 
self  and  his  men  to  the  Indians,  their  iivei  sfaodll 
be  spared  $  but,  that  if  they  persHied  to  ^eir  uii> 
dertakinff,  and  attacked  the  town,  they  should  all 
be  massacred  to  a  man. 

Crawford,  while  hearlfig  the  propdsition,  atten* 
lively  surveyed  its  bearer,  and  recdgnieefl  in  hit 
featttres  one  of  his  former  schoolmates  and  coNi^ 
panions,  with  whom  he  was  perfeddy  acqimliited) 
by  the  name  of  Simon  Gurty,  Gurtyi  but  a  shiort 
time  before  this,iiad  been  a  soldier  in  t|i6  Ameri- 
cauarmy,  in  the  same  regiinieiit  with  Crawfiild^ 
but  on  the  ajfteunt  of  his  t||r'baving  received  the 
promotion  tiMi  he  expeiited^  he  became  disaffect> 
ed--- swore  an  eternal  war  with  his  coun^men,  fled 
to  tlie  Indians,  and  joined  diem,  as  a  kader  well 
quaitfied  to  conduct  them  to  where  they  could  sdi^ 
tiate  their  thirst  for  bloo<^,  upon  the  innocent,^»tt^ 
offendihf^  ..:id  defenceless  settlers. 

Crawford  intern ly  inquired  of  the  traitor  if  his 
name  yms  not  Simon  Ouity ;  and  being  answered 
in  the  affirmative,  he  informed  htm  tlmt  he  despl- 
*^tlto  o^er  which  he  had  made;  and  that  to 
uld  not  surrender  his  army  ufiless  he  should  be 
iipelled  to  do  so,  by  a  superior  force. 
Gurty  returned,  and  Crawford  immediately 
comaaeticed  an  engagement  that  lasted  tlM  rti|^; 


iiSS: 


n^mg^^ 


'^ 


•^fpIPP 


no 


LIFE  OF 


m 


wH'iiout  the  appearance  af  victory  on  either  side, 
trken  the  firing  ceased,  and  the  combatants  on 
both  sides  retired  to  take  refireshiijpent,  and  to  rest 
through  the  night.  CrawfOiM^v  encamped  in  the 
woods  near  half  a  mile  from  ^  tOfvi),  where^  after 
the  centinels  w^^re  p}»ced,  find  «ach  had  taken,  his 
ration,  they  slepc  en  ihetr  arras,  that  they  might 
be  instantly  ready  in  case  they  shouid  be  attacked. 
The  stillness  of  death  hovered  over  the  httie  army, 
and  sleep  relieved  the  whole,  except  the  wakeful 
centinels  who  vigilantly  -attended  to  their  duty.-<M. 
But  what  was  their  surprise,  when  they  found  late 
in  the  night,  that  they  w«re  surrounded  by  the  In- 
dimis  on  every  side,  except  a  narro^/v  space  be- 
vtween  them  and  theitown  ?  Every  man  was> under 
arms,  and  the  officers  instantly  consulted  i'aoh 
•other  on  the  best  method  of  escaping;  for  they 
saw  Ihat  <o  %ht,  would  be  useless,  and  tliatio  sur- 
render, would  be  death. 

Crawford  proposeil||l  retreat  tlM'<]^gh  the  ranks 
4>f  the  enemy  in  an  4)pposite  directiou  from  the 
town^  as  being  the  most  sure  course  to  tttke.  Lt, 
Col*  Williamson  advised  to  march  directly  through 
the' town,  where  there  appeared  to  be  no  Indians, 
ifttod  the  fires  were  yet  burning. 

There  was  tio  time  or  place  for  debates :  CoL 
Crawford,  with  sixty  followers  retreated  on  the 
route  that  he  had  proposed  by  attempting  to  rush 
through  the  enemy ;  hvA  they  bad  no  sooner  got 
amongst  the  Indians; l^n  every  man  ivas  kill 
taken  prisoner !  Amdiigst  l^  prisoners,  were 
Crawford,  and  Doct.  iS^ht,  surgeon  of  t^ 
meot. 

Lt*  Col.  Williaaison,  with  the  remaiiadei^  the 


.  f^yfr. 


X'-^.. 


►'■«• 


MARir  JEMISON. 


Ul 


her  side, 
ants  ou 
to  rest 
in  the 
Te^aAer 
ken,  his 
y  might 
ttaeked. 
e  army, 
wakeful 
duty.-^ 
iind  late 
tbe/In- 
ace  be- 
« under 

pr  tJiey 
ttosiir- 

e^ranks 
ona  tlw 
^.  Lt. 
hraugh 
ndians, 


|f  the 


%. 


r^giiti«tit^  together  with  the  wounded,  set  out  at  ^e 
same  time  that  Crawford  did,  went  through  the 
town  without  ]mmg  a  man,  and  by  the  help  of 
good  guides  arrif  ed  att  their  homes^  in  safety. 

The  next  dai^  aUtet  the  engagemeitt  the  Indians 
dtspos^  of  all  their  prisoners  to  the  different  tribes, 
except  Col.  Crawford  and  Doct.  Night  ;*  but  those 
ttnfoftunate  men  were  reserved  for  a  more  cruel 
destiny.  A  council  was  immediately  hekl  on  Sati* 
dusky  plains,  consisting  of  all  the  Chiefs  and  war- 
riors, ranged  in  their  cHstomaiy  order,  \n  a  circular 
form;  and  Crawford  and  Night  were  brought  for- 
ward and  seated  in  the  centre  of  the  circle. 

The  council  being  opened,  the  Chiefs  began  to 
examine  Crawford  on  various  subjects  relative  to 
the  war.  At  length  tliey  enquired  who  conducted 
the  military  operations  of  the  Atneridan  army  oa 
the  Ohio  and  Susquehannah  rivers,  during  the 
year  before;  and  who  had  led  that  army  against 
them  with  s^  much  ski|l|k||  so  uniform  success? 
Crawford  very  hone^y[yi^RKithout  suspecting  |ny 
harm  from  his  refly7  promptly  answered  that  he 
was  the  man  who  had  led  his  countrymen  to  victo- 
ry, who  find  driven  the  enemy  fi'om  the  settlements, 
and  by  that  means  had  procured  a  great  degree  of 
happiness  to  many  of  his  fellow-citizens*  Up- 
on hearing  this,  a  Chief,  who  had  lost  a  son  lA 
the  year  before,  in  a  battle  where  Colonel  Craw- 
ford eommanded,  left  his  station  in  the  council, 
stepped  ||o  Crawford,  blac'ked  his  face,  and  at  the 
same  time  told  him  that  the  next  day  he  should 
bebufr|r     ^  *■ 

The  council  was  immediately  dissolved  ou  its 
hearing  the  seii|ence  &om  the  Chief,  aud  the  pris- 


.«>'■': 


;^ 


v^. 


».^w. 


i 


|lf;ww""i«J.|W(!i  m; 


%n 


XIFUjyfF 


«H9^r8  were  taken  off  tlie  ground,  and  kept  in  cus- 
tody through  the  night.  Crawford  new  viewed 
his  fate  as  sealed;  and  despairing  of  ever  return- 
ing to  hi»  home  or  his  country^  only  dreaded  the 
tedfousness  of  death,  as  conMnonly  inflicted  by  the 
savages,  and  earnestly  hoped  that  he  might,  be 
despatched  at  a  single  bloAv. 

£arly  the  next  morning,  the  Indians  assembled 
allhe  place  of  exeeotion,  and  Crawford  was  led 
to  the  post— the  goal  of  savage  torture,  to  wh^ich 
he  was  fastened.  The  post  was  a  stick  of  timber 
{placed  ftrtnly  in  tlie  ground,  having  an  arm  fram* 
ed  in  at  the  top,  and  extending  some  six  or  eight 
feet  from  it,  like  the  arm  of  a  sign  post.  A  pite  of 
jWood  eontaining  about  two  cords,  hiy  a'few  feet 
from  the  place  where  he  stood,  which  he  was  In- 
Ibrmed  w:  to  be  kindled  into  a  fire  that,  would 
buni  him  alive,  as  many  had  been  burnt  on  the 
same  spot,  who  had  beea  much  less  deserving  than 

himseli^  ^flfe 

Gurty  stood  and^PI|pf^^]y  looked  on  the 
Reparations  that  were  maklllf  for  the  funeral  of 
one  his  former  playmates ;  a  hero  by  whose  side 
he  bad  fought;  of  a  man  whose  valor  had  won  lair- 
rels  which,  if  he  could  have  returned,  would  have 
been  strewed  upon  his  grave,  by  his  grateful  coun- 
trymen. Dreading  the  agony  that  he  saw  lie  was 
about  to  feel,  Crawford  used  every  argument  which 
his  perilous  situation  c^iuld  suggest  to  prevail  upon 
Gurty  to  ransom  him  at  any  pi-ice,  and  deliver  bi 
(as  it  was  in  his  power,)  from  tiie  savages,  a 
their  torments.  Gurty  heard  his  prayers,  and  ex- 
postulations, and  saw  his  tears  with  indijfference, 
and  finally  told  the  forsaken  victim  that  he  wouki 


n< 
thi 

ti 

iz^ 

arl 

jw 
th 

at 

ml 

th 

tic 

be 

to 

cu 


MARY  JEMISON. 


f^ 


not  procure  him  a  moment's  respite,  nor  aflPord  htm 
the  mosi  trifling  assistance. 

The  Col.  wastlien  bound,  stripped  naked  and 
tied  by  bis  wrists  to  the  arm,  which  extended  hot^ 
izontaUy  from  the  po0t,  in  such  a  manner  that  bis 
arms  were  extended  over  his  head,  wkb  his  feet 
just  standing  upon  the  ground.     This  being  done^ 
the  savages  placed  the  -rood  in  a  cirde  around  hinot 
at  the  distance  of  a  few  feetyin  fidPdeMmt^s  mi^ry^ 
might  be  protracted  to  the  greatest  length,  ai^ 
then  kindled  it  in  a  number  of  places  at  the  same 
time.     The  flames  arose  and  the  scorching  bteat 
became  almost  insupportable*    Again  he  prayed 
to  Gurty  in  all  the  anguish  of  his  torment^  to  re»^ 
cue  him  froor  the  Are,  or  shoot  him  dead  upon  thc^ 
spot     A  demoniac  smtle  suflbsed  the  countenance 
of  Gurty,  while  he  cabnly  replied  to  the  dyh.^ 
suppHtint,  that  he  had  no  pity  for  bis  su^rtngs^ 
but  that  he  was  tlien  satisfying  that  spirii  of  re- 
venge, which  for  a  long  gMjjjie  he  had  hoped '^ 
have  an  opportunity  to  ^'w/flm  upon  him.     Natiire 
now  aliifost  exhaus!te#1^m  the  intensity  of  tN 
heat,  j^  settled  down  a  little,  when  a  squaw  ihf&if 
coals  of  ftre  and  embers  upon  biro,  which  made 
him  groan  most  piteou&ly,  vvliile  the  whole  camp^ 
rung  with  exultation.     During  the  execution  they^ 
manifested  all  the  exstacy  of  a  complete  iriumplib 
Poor  Crawford  soon  died  and  was  entirely  consumN" 
ed. 
Thus  ended  the  life  c^  ii  patriot  and  hero,  who 

fad  been  an  intimate  with  Gen;  Washington,  ami^ 
who  shared  in  an  eminent  degree  the  confidence^ 
of  that  great,  goo^Rhian,  to  wbom,  iti  the  time  of 
revolutionary  ]|gy^;^he  sons  of  legitin^te  freedom 

Iv  2    '" 


iHiiiyii 


i^iiliiiiiii 


^^^^mfW' 


U4 


UFB  OF 


laoked  nitib  «  degree  of  faitli  in  his  mental  reM>ur- 
cea.  unequalled  in  the  history  of  the  world. 
vvThiittragedy  beiagended^Doct.  Night  ws^  in- 
jfovmed  that  on  the  next  day  he  should  be  burnt 
in  the  same  inanoer  that  hi«  comrade  Crawford 
bad  been,  at  Lower  Sandusky.  Hiokatoo,  who 
had  been  a  ieadlng  chief  in  the  battle  witli,  and 
in  the  execution  of  Crawford,  painted^  Doct.  Night's 
ftce  blacky  and  then  bound  and  gave  him  up  to 
twi^  able  bodied  lodisins  to  condtta  to  tlie  place  of 
execution. 

They  set  off  with  him  immediately,  and  travel- 
led till  towards  evening,  when  they  halted  to  en« 
4;amp  till  morning.  The  afternoon  had  been  very 
fs^y,  and  the  stortn  still  continued,  which  render- 
ed it  very  difficult  for  the  Indians  to  kii«dle  a  fire. 
Night  observing  the  difficulty  unden  which  they  la^ 
iKNred,  made  them  to  understand  by  signs,  that  li 
they  would  unbind  him^  he  would  assist  them.— 
They  accordingly  ui^MjlKd  him,  a^ni  he  soon  suc- 
ceeded in  making  a  flH^  the  application  of  small 
dry  stuff  which  he  was  at  considerable  tr<)uble  to 
procure.  While  the  Indians  were  warming  them- 
selves,  the  Doct.  continued  to  gather  wood  to  last 
through  the  night,  and  in  doing  this,  he  found  a 
•club  which  he  placed  in  a  situation  from  wherlce 
he  could  take  it  conveniently  whenever  an  oppor- 
timity  should  present  jtseK^  ih  which  he  could  use 
it  effectually.  The  Indians  continued  warming, 
till  at  length  the  Doct»  wm  that  they  had  place 
^emcffilvesina  Ikvorable  position  for  the  i^xec 
tiOtt  of  his  design,  when,  stimub^  by  the  love  of 
life,  he  cautiously  took  his  cloPand  at  two  blows 
kooeked  them  both ,  down.    B^Mbined  to  inish 


"ft 


'-fe,. '-., 


w^mmmi^mm 


MARY  JEMISON. 


>»  •-*. 


the  work  of  death  which  be  liad  so  well  begun,  be , 
drew  one  of  their  scalping  knives,  with  which  he 
beheaded  and  scalped  them  both  !  He  then  took 
a  rifle,  tomahawk,  and  some  ammunition,  and  dn 
rected  his  course  for  home,  where  he  arrived  with- 
out having  experienced  any  difficulty  on  his  jour- 
ney. •      ^ 

The  next  morning,  the  Indians  took  tbe  track 
of  their  victim  and  his  attendants,  to  go  to  Lower 
Sandusky,  and  there  execute  the  sentence  which 
they  had  pronounced  upon  htm.  fiut  what  was 
their  surprise  and  disappointment,  when  they  ar- 
rived at  the  place  of  encampment,  where  they 
found  their  trusty  friends  scalped  and  decapitated, 
and  that  their  prisoner  had  made^  his  esoape?-»^- 
Ohagrined  beyond  measure,  they  inHnediately  sep^ 
arated,  and  went  in  every  direction  in  pursuit  of 
their  prey;  but  after  having  spent  a  number  of 
days  unsuccessfully,  they  gave  up  the  chase,  and 
returned  to  their  encapmen^  -^^■^■^'' 

*l  have  understooH,  (from  uaautbentkatRd  sources  how* 
ever,)  that  soon  aAer  the  revolutionary  war,  Doct.  JNight 
publUhed  a  pamphlet,  containing  an  account  of  the  battle 
at  Sandusky,  Hild  of  his  own  silfierings.  My  inforroatioH 
on  this  subject,  was  derived  frcini  a  different  quarter. 

The  subject  of  this  nahrative  in  g'tv'mg^fk^  account  ef 
her  last  husband,   Hiokatoo,   referred  us  W   Mr.  George  ^ 
Jamison,  who,  (as  it  will  be  noticed)  lived  on  her  land  a 
number  Of  years,  ahd  wh6  ha;d  frequently  heatd  the  old 
Chief  relate  the  story  of  his  life;    particularly   that  part 
wjl^tch  related  to  his  military  careMf:.     Mr.  Jemison^  on  be- 
irff^enquired  of,  gave  the  foregoing  account,  partly  from  his 
own  personal  knowledge,  and  the  renaatnder,  from  the  ac,7,   ^ 
count  given  by  Hiokatoo.  .  Jp; 

Mr.  Jemison  was  in  the  bkttle,  was  pei(]|Muilly  acqii W^ 
ed  With  Col.  Crawford,  and^ne  that  esclii|a  withXt>  #dT. 


A.:;i^* 


1^- 


'■*?'■ 


MA 


■w- 


JW    "lli» 


'f  I  "J      ''wmmmt^fwt 


U 


u$ 


l^'.'^'^- 


LIFE  OP 


.  Ill  tbe  time  of  the  French  war,  iri  an  enp^age* 
ment  that  took  place  on  the  Ohio  river,  Hiokatoo 
took  a  British  Col.  hy  the  name  of  iSitnon  Canton, 
whom  he  carried  to  the  Indian  encampment.  A 
council  was  held,  and  the  Col.  was  sentenced  to 
suffer  death,  by  being  tied  on  a  wild  colt,  with  his 
face  towards  it»'  tail,  and  then  having  the  colt 
turned  loose  to  run  wh^re  it  pleased.  He  was  ac- 
cordingly tied  on,  and  the  colt  let  loose,  agreea- 
ble to  the  sentence.  The  colt  run  two  days  .and 
then  returned  with  its  rider  yet  alive.  The  In- 
dians, thinking  that  he  would  never  die  in  that 
way,  took  him  off,  and  made  him  run  the  gaunt- 
let three  times ;  but  in  the  last  race  a  squaw  knocks 
ied  htm  down,  and  lie  was  supposed  to  have  been 
dead.  He,  however,  recovered,  and  was  sold  for 
fifty  dollars  to  a  Frenchman,  who  sent  him  as  a 
prisoner  to  Detroit.  On  the  return  of  the  Frerch- 
man  to  Detroit,  the  Col.  besought  him  to  ransom 
him,  and  give,  or  se^uirn  at  liberty,  with  so  much 
warmth,  and  promisXrwith  so  much  solemnity,  to 
reward  hii|i  as  one  of  the  best  of  benefactors,  if  he 
would  let  him  go,  that  the  Frenchman  took  his 
word,  and  sent  him  home  to  his  family.  The  CoL 
remembered  his  promise,  and  in  a  short  time  sent 
his  deliverett^e  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  as  a  re- 
ward for  hi^enerusity. 

Since  the  commencement  of  the  revolutionary 

WHUamson.  We  have  no  doiibt  of  the  truth  of  the  s-xa^- 
ment,  and  have  therefore  inserted  the  whole  account,  air4ra 
addition  to  the  historical  facts  which  are  daily  comine  into 
state  of  preservation,  in  relation  to  the  American  Revo* 

AvrmW 


i  ^"l  ■■'. 


M AHY  JEMISON. 


117 


^  U'  -^-y  ^ 


war,  fiiokatoo  bns  been  in  seventeen  campaigns, 
four  of  which  were  in  the  Cherokee  war.  He  was 
80  great  an  enemy  to  the  Cherokees,  and  so  fully 
determined  upon  their  subjugation,  that  on  his 
march  to  their  country,  he  raised  his  own  army 
for  those  four  campaigns,  and  commanded  it ;  and 
also  superintended  its  subsistence.  In  one  of  those 
campaigns,  which  continued  two  whole  years  5fi»ith- 
out  intermission,  he  attacked  his  enemies  on  the 
Mobile,  drove  them  to  the  country  of  the  Creek 
Nation,  where  he  continued  to  harrass  them,  till 
being  tired  of  war,  he  returned  to  his  family.  He 
brought  home  a  great  number  of  scalps,  which  he 
had  taken  from  the  enemy,  and  ever  sce^iced  to 
possess  an  unconc(uerable  will  that  the  Cherokees 
might  fee  utt*  ly  destroyed.  Towards  the  close  of 
his  last  fighting  in  tliat  country,  he  took  two  squaws, 
whom  he  sold  on  his  way  home  for  money  to  de* 
fray  the  expense  of  his  journey. 

Hiokatoo  was  about  six  feet  four  or  five  iochei 
high,  large  boned^  and  rather  inclined  to  leannesf. 
He  was  very  stout  and  active,  for  a  man  of  his  siee, 
for  it  was  said  by  himself  and  others,  that  he  had 
never  found  an  Indian  who  could  keep  up  with 
him  on  a  race,  or  throw  him  at  wrestling.  His 
eye  was  quick  and  penetrating;  and  his  voice  was 
of  that  harsh  and  powerful  kind,  which,  amongst 
Indians,  always  commands  attention.  His  health 
had  been  uniformly  good.  He  never  was  confk^ 
edby  sickness,  till  he  was  attacked  with  the  con^ 
sumption,  four  years  before  his  death.  And,  a^ 
though  he  had,  from  his  eaH  est  days,  been^ 
ed  to  almost  constant  fatigue,  mid  exj 
inclemency  af  the  weather,  in  the 


'^-7 


c 


■^'f 


"•»wpie»>  '''■,  <*'w  '«Hn»,7 


lle-ii^'iil-^^l/lf  LIFE   OF' 


■■^^' 


seemed  to  lose  the  vigor  of  the  prime  of  life  only 
by  the  natural  decay  occasioned  by  ol'*  age. 


.^  ^'«'' 


Mii' 


Her  Troubles  Renewed. — John's  Jealousy  towards  bis 
^.  vi  brother  Jesse. — Circumstances  attending  the  Murder 
^^5^  of  Jesse  Jemison. — Her  GrieC — His  Funeral-^Age 
:  v:  J    — Filial  Kindness,  &tc. 

,-,  Being  now  left  a  widow  in  ijiy  old  agejto  moum 
(^e  loss  of  a  husband,  who  had  treated  me  wei^ 
and  with  whom  I  had  raised  five  children,  and  hav- 
ing suffered  the  loss  oC  an  affectionate  son,  I  fond- 
ly fostered  the  hope  that  my  melanchojy  yicigsu 
tildes  had  ended,  and  that  the  rcn)aii(der  of  tny 
i^time  would  be  characterized  by  nothiiig  uiipropi* 
tious.  My  children,  dutiful  and  kindi  lived  near 
me,  r.nd  apparently  nothing  obstru(;te|  our  happi- 
ness.   .  '■  "^ 

But  a  short  time,  however,  elapsed  afler  my 
husband's  death,  before  my  troubles  were  renewed 
with  redoubled  severity. 

John's  hands  having  been  once  stained  in  the 
blood  of  a  brother,  it  was  not  strange  that  af\er  h»s 
acquitaU  every  person  of  his  acquaintance  should 
siiiinhim,  from  a  fear  of  his  repeating  upon  them 
the  same  ceremony  that  he  had  practised  upon 
Thomas.  My  son  Jesse,  went  to  Mt.  Morris,  a 
iri^les  from  honrve,on  businesii  in  the  winter  af- 
t)i0^|thbf  his  father;  and  it  so  happened 
^nk  lib  ^thei^  John  was  there^  who  requested/^ 

JV      ■*•    .  '  ^w  1^  »  ",■       ,      .  ' 

,,'<*•■,'  ' 


♦^;I' 


..^^ 


MARY  JEMlSON.ff 


119 


Jesse  to 


li 


ith  hi 


Jesse,  fearincr  that 


co|pt5  Home 
John  would  commence  a  qufirrel  witli  him  on  the 
way,  declined  the  invitation,    and   tarried  over 
night. 

From  that  time  John  conceived  himself  despised 
by  Jesse,  and  was  highly  enraged  at  the  treats 
ment  which  he  had  received.  Very  little  Miassaid, 
however,  and  it  all  passed  off,  apparently,  till  some- 
time in  the  month  of  May,  1812,  at  which  time 
Mr.  Robert  Whaley,  who  lived  in  the  town  of  Cas- 
tile, within  four  miles  of  me,  cannie  to  my  house 
early  on  Monday  morning,  to  hire  George  Chon^o, 
my  son*in-Iaw,  and  John  and  Jesse,  to  go  that  day 
06  help  him  slide  a  quantity  of  boards  from  the 
top  of  the  hill  to  the  river,  where  he  calculated  to 
build  a  taft  ol  th^m  for  market. 

They  all  concluded  to  go  with  Mr.  Whaley,  and 
made  ready  as  soon  as  possibl^e.  But  before  they 
set  out  I  char|f%d  them  not  to  drink  any  whiskey  ; 
fori  was  confident  that  if  they  did,  they  would 
surely  have  a  fjuarrel  in  consequence  of  it.  They 
went  and  worked  till  almost  night,  ^hen  a  quarrel 
ensued  between  Chofigo  and  Jesse,  in  consequence 
of  the  whiskey  that  they  had  drank  through  the 
day,  which  terminated  in  a  battle,  and  Chorgo  got 
whipped. 

*i  When  Jesse  had  got  ihrough  with  C bongo,  he 
told  Mr.  Whaley  that  he  would  go  home,  and  di- 
rectly went  oiT.  He,  however,  went  but  a  few  rods 
before  he  s  topped  and  lay  ^own  by  the  side  of  a 
log  to  wait, (as  was  supposed,)  for  company.  John, 
as  soon  as  Jesse  was  gone,  went  to  Mr.  Whalej 
with  his  knife  in  his  han4|Pki  bade  him  jot 
{i.  e.  be  gone,)  at  the  saro^Wme  telHog  him  that 


■M 


^''■t 


liH 


mi^mimga^ 


■#l;'- 


Hi 


MiMiiiiii 


ISO 


LIFE  OF 


■  '^n^iOi 


J^ie  wftft  a  bad  O]^  _  Mr*  Wt^iti^ 
tais  countenaj3e#^was '*hi^bgeO; 
termineci,cr]pon  somethfmg  defl^^erate,  ^i»^  a 
for  hisjdwn  safety/ and  turned  towai^stioftie,i€#- 
ifig  Cfton^  on  tile  ground  drunk,  near  to  wjhefe 
Jesse  ijad  1jy%.^i4i#%' ttiirthne  had  gOf  lip,  wid 
liraft  tl#3iieing  to^Tards  John.  Mr.  Whaley#«s 
todlr  i^fft  of  hearitig  of  ^m;  but  some  cif  his 
workc^e^  s^  till  It  wa^asjc.  Jesse  came  up  to 
Job^and  88^  tolYim^ou  v^ant  more  wiilikey, 
and  pore  %htmg,  and  vSter  ft  itsw  #brds  went  |rt 
bim| to  try  in  theilrst  pla^  to  get  am0  his  kti^* 
In  this  he  did  not  sucoeed,  and  they  |>arted. 
^hls.time  the  night  had  come  on,  and.if  was  d 
^^ifn  they  clenched  and  at  lei^^  in  theif  ^ 
1^^  Ibey  both  fell.  John,  havitigl^is  kuili^  in  bi^ 
band)  came  under,  and  in  that  situation  gave  JiisBe 
a  fatal  stab  with  hja^knife,,  and  repeated  the  blows 
till  Jes9e  cried'  ($U%  brother^  you  have  *  ^led  me, 
quit  his  hold  and  settled  back  i^on  the  grojund. — 
ll^ofi  hearing  this,  John  left  mm  and  came  to 
lEliomas'  widow's  house,  told  tblM  that  he  had 
bf^n  fighting  with  their  uncle,  whom  beliad  killed) 
and  showed  them  his  kiiife. 

Next  morning  as  soon  as  it  was  light,  l^iomas' 
^lid^  John's  childreja  caR^e  sindtold  me  thiit  Jesse 
was  dead  in  the  wodd%  ^nd  also  informed  me  how 
lie  came  by  bis  death.  John  soon  followed  them 
and  informed  nta  hin^lf  of  all  that  had  tliken  place 
between  him  and  bpbro^r,  and  seemed  to  be 
somewhat  sorrowfid  for  his  conduct^  You  can  bet- 
^^  imagine  whaj  n^fei^ngs  were  thifhi^an^;$* 
^1^.  them.   .3My  ^BJg  son,  my  youtigen  cbitt; 


■  *j!r. 


fe 


nil 


ngglgm 


MAII¥  jyS%|l80N. 


lU 


old  njit 


i^|f»ded,  was  de}\d  5  and  I  ifli  1^ 

l^e  of  a  hcl  jfiing  hand  ! 

m^  corisUteiit  tot  ni6, 1  got  Mf. 

j  («€  whom  I  shall  have  occasion 

with  his  sleigh  to  where  Jesse  was, 

hiiil  home^  a  dbtarice  of  3  or  4  miles. 

BfyliApterP<%^fivedattbefkal  spot  fir^t: 

we  Ml  tlier6  80011  af^^^  though  I  \wpnt  the 

iMiif  d^ttct^  oil  foot.    By  this  tioie,  Chonfeo, 

(whb  wftf  left  on  tlie  ground  drunk  tlfeiil^^le- 

i&tpi)  .lad  Di^come  sober  iand  sensible  of  t^fereiit 

tnibl^tune  which  had  happened  to  our  famify. 

i  wm  ib^^iefcoim  mth  grief  at  the  sight  of  njy 

ji^fdtiredfWn,  and  so  far  lost  the  command  of  my- 

IWpif'  as  to  be  HlffloSt  frantic  5  |and  those  who  wei^ 

])resent  were  obltged  to  hold  me  from  going  n^ 
him.  - 

On  ixafAfniiig  the  body  U  was  ^und  that  it  had 
recifeived  eighteen  t^otois  so  deiip  and  large  that  it 
was  b^ieved  that  either  6f  them  wouid  have  pro- 
ved li^brtal.  flte  coi-pse  was  carried  to  my  house, 
ar^d  l%tti!l  tfmiThursday  fbllowing,  when  it  wa^ 
.  buried  aftet#e  manner  of  burying  white  peot^e. 

JTess^  was  twenty-seven  or  eight  years  old  wh6n 
he  was  killed.  Hif  Jtimfer  had  been  uniformly 
very  mild  and  friendly  5  aiid  he  was  inclined  to 
copy  aller  the  wbite  pi^jple ;  both  in  his  liianners 
anddre^.  Jtltlough  he  was  naturally  teri^perate, 
he  occasionally  became  intoxicated  j  but  never  was 
quatif^l^me  m  mlschie  voti^  With  the  white  peo- 
ple Jit  was  intimate,  and  leWned  fronrthem  their 
lial^  of  industry,  which  he  was  fond  of  practising, 
espeeift^wben  my  €ism||p^liiandedhislaj^. 
A$  I  Jhftve  obs^ved,  ^%^1p  custom  am^npi  tie 


)^H^\ 


0 


iinW"iiyfirii-i  •   .'^*uiak^i««<,«Li 


ItMmhi.. 


■■71  ■■  ' 

im 


-"^'^w 


!W"T" 


■^PW^PIPPP 


UIFU  OF 


%. 


lodiai^,  for  the  w^iuen  to  pergMrtei^  d»  lalto  in, 
wd  put  or  doors,  and  f  hW  the^AWfe%  dd,  #fth 
tft^Ip  of  my  dmigfiters,  till  Je^  l«wed^^% 
s^iem  age  to^  rn^ht  m.    lie  ^asfe^li^^^ 
mt  in  the  cornfifiM,  to  ^op  rliy  wdo^'liyit  i»^ 
€ows,  and  attend  to  iWykiMofbuMoesitfefe^B 
make  my  task  the  ttgHtier.    On  the  accotiir^^ 
having  been  my  votm^st  chifd,  and  sc^  Watorlo 
he^tri«,.I  am  senitte  that  I  loved  him  bfettMtei 
^^J""^/  »^  my  cjth€jr  children.    After  b«  be- 
ganp  understand  my  situation,  and  the  m^a»$  lif 
render^g  It  «^re  eaiy,  Inuver  wanted  for  any 
tning  that  was  lii  his  power  to  bestow  :  bift    '  - 
his  death,  as  I  have  liad  all  my  labor^  pei 
|]tone,  r  have  constantly  seen  hiWtftlies. 
^/^Jejse  shunned  the  oc^pany  of  his  t»reJthei|L  mil 
ttte  Indians  generally,  ktid  never,  atten4#tieir 
ii-ohcs5    and  it  was  suppi6sed  that  tMs,'^^hfer 
wit^  my  partiafitf  for  hitb,  %ere  tile  causes  which 
excited  in  John  sof  greit  a  deg^e  W  envy,  that 
Nothing  short  of  dedth  would  satisfy  it.        ''     , 


»Si 


CHAPTER  XW.  ^ 


Mrs.  Jemiswi  is  informed  tifet  she  hM  a  Cousin  id  the 
Neighborhood,  by  the  n««B  of  George  Jemlwn.- 
H>s  Poverty.-,Her  EiadDess.-Hi,  In^S- 

ri^/w  T  w«»*e%|^e  death  of  mytan^Ma, 
Cfj*ti  H.  Jones  sent  jglirafd,  that  fti8W^a,rfBMii«( 


MART  jiiKSON. 


129 


wag  ^Nf  iKi*^|f^io  Leicester,  {a  feyr  mSes  ftmi 
Gai^)i%^)if  l|e  name  &£  Qeorgeiemkenf  wpA  a» 
bepiii  ^llf  lormetDrgo 

and  »^  lilii^.  ana  take  1^  boiaete  five  with  me 
on  mi^J^to.    My  Indian  fn^mB  were  pi#ased  t 
)ifar  that^e  dT  my  relatives  ws^^fO'iieary  jmd  a 
so  ^y^ed  tmt/Q  send  for  hkn  and  his  lamiiy  im- 
mediately.    I  a^eordingiy  ba4l!^  and  fc#^<]^E 
moved  intQ  one  of  my  Monies^  in  the  mjt^^d^ff 
March,  i&io.  Jy  J     (" 

He  said  that  he  was  my  father's  hrothti^im*^ 
that  b»»  l^dier  did  ik^  |ea^  ilmrape,  till  ^er4he 
trench  mm  in  Ameri^ra#^m  did 

^come  o?«r,  he  settled  in  Petii^ylvama,^f}^ 
die4^  P^rge  JM  no  personal  knowledge;i9| 
faii^f^t  nN9fn  information,  was  conlM^i^ 
the  x^faiionship  which  he  clalme^  bf  tween  Mmejjf 
and  me,  actually  existed.  ;  4^iN%h  1  had  nel^ 
before  heard  ol^y  father  having  had  but  ,^ie 
brother, (hipfrw^^lms killed  at  KortNecessity,^  yet 
I  knew  that  he  ^iflH  have  had  others,  and,  as  t^ 
story  of  G^^fg^  ^nrled  with  it  a  proJjability  tl^t 
it  was  mie,  t  received  bim  as  a  kinsman,  and  tre^t* 
ed  him  with  every  ^^p|fe^^  friendship  which  bis 
situation  demanded.* 

I  found  that  he  was  destitute  of  the  means  of 
subf^tence,  and  itt  w^'  l^  th#  amount  of  leventy 
dolf ars,  without  the^WPf  #  pay  one  cent.  He 
had  no>  ciiw,  affid  ^md^^^lcotnptetely  poor^, 

*  Mrs.  Jemison  U  now  coQi^ffiilt  that  George  Jenii«on  is 
riother  ccrasin/aQ4  thinks  tWaf  fie  cTstlmed  thct  relalionship, 
only  tdgftin  Asstitsiice :  Bat  t||  oMgentleman^.^^  is 
Mm  living,  i»  eerMitt  t^at  lii^«ii^^  ikther  were  iirotb* 
«rSf  as  before  stated.  ^ 


.(      -A     , 


iiiiici 'iiiirii'iiiiii'liiii 


''■' -■^^^^- 


i;^.^r.,...^a^,: 


fiililiUfAi^iili  irtlr-  wmi^'-'-  ■•""'^'^ 


1S4 


hWB  or 


pt|jd  his  d«bt«  to  tlie  anioiiDt  of  sefetilyitwo  dollars^ 
and  bought  hifb  a  eaw^  for  which  I  |^id  twirnty 
dollars,  an^  a  sow  and  pigty  tliat  1  ^laM'^ght  duii- 
hirs  for.  I  also  paid  $ix$e6D  do^lait.  fl«  f«rjk  thut 
I  gave  him,  and  Aimivbed  him  with' oth^li^ 
ions  aud  farniture;  so  that  hisfbrntly  waseotelbl^ 
able  As  he  was  destitute  of  a  tetoi^  I  furnished 
him  wkb  one,  and  also  supplied  hia|  with  tools  fot 
^^farmiDg.  Fn  addition  to  alt  this,  11^ him  hav^.ona 
<)f  TlwMnas^  cows,  for  two  seasans. 

Mf  only  object  in  mentioning  his  poverty,  and 
thG*artides  with  which  I  supplied  hins^  istosh 
how  ^ngratefu)  a  pef'oa  can  be  for  favom, 
b^w  so^f  kind  be&i^iM>tor  will)  ti^  aU  aj^^^aipi 

||&,fiirg^ten. 
V'Tmi^  furnished  with  th^  neces^|^  in|{ilfiQi^^ 
of  hufl^ndry^  a  good  team,  and  as  tniiel^  t|u»d,as 
he  e^td  till,  ha  qommenced  farming  o||ttflats» 
und'il'or  some  time  labored  weW^  .At  l^^h;^  how* 
ever,  he  got  an  idea  that  if  hedpuld  heeoii^ii'tlie 
w^  of  a  part  of  my  reservs^on,  h6t|^9^il41ivi 
Wre  easy,  and  certainly  be  more  rich,  ai»4  aecoi^ 
dlngty  set  himself  about  laying  a  pjao  |fi  qiltaiiiiti 
in  the  easiest  manner  possible. 

I  supported  Jemison  and  h^li^iply  eight  years, 
and  probably  should  have  eonti^a^  ^  baira  d^ne 
so  to  this  day^  had  i|  not  been  Ibr  the  occurranea 
of  the  foNowii^  circuprifliimf^* 

When  Ite  had  livedyMb  /ine  some  six  or  sc^ren 
years,  a  fHend  of  nlw^  ^dtne  thai  as  Jemison 
was  my  cousin,  and  veQf jpoor^  I  cMighl  to  ^ive  him 
a  piece  of  lanil  that  lie  irnight  have  spmethiNg 
whffeoin  to  live^j^al^  would  call  his  Q^*u,  ^>^ 
friend  and  Jemison  were  then  tofettier  at  iiiy 


M^0, 


MARY  J«»iSON. 


tU 


house f  prepared  to  complete  a  bargain.  I  asked 
how  muclv^nd  he  wanted  ?  Jomi^on  said  that  he, 
should  be  glad  to  receive  hts  old  Aetd  (as  heeall^ 
ed  tt)  con^iiShig  about  fourteeivacres^  and  a  new 
one  thateoii^in^  twentyj-six. 

I  observed  to  th^i^  that  as  I  was  incapable  of 
transacting  business  of  that  nature,  I  would  wait 
till  Mr.  Thomas  Ctute,  (a  neighbor  on  whom  I 
depended,)  smjjM  return  from  Albany,  before  I 
should  do  any  Ming  about  it.  To  this  Jemlson 
replied  that4f  1  waited  till  Mr.  Clute  returned,  he 
should  not  get  the  land  at  all,  and  appeared  §0fy 
anxious  to  Imve  the  business  closed  /  ithout^efdy. 
On  my  par%  1  felt  disposed;  tor give  him  some  land, 
but  k«0#1ilg  ray  ignorance  of  1/f  riling,  feai^ed  to  d6 
it  alqne.  lest  tlrey  might  include  as  m^cli  lan4 
they  pleased,  w^itiiiout  my  knowledjE^e.    -   \,^ 

They  then  read  the  deed  which  0y  frimppad 
prepai-ed  before  he  came  from  home,  describjf|d^.a 
piece  <rf  land  by  certain  bounds  that  were  a  sfwigik 
ned  number  of  trains  and  lirks  from  each  others 
Not  understiindf!^  the  length  of  a  chain  or  link,  %, 
described  the  bi^nds^f  a  piece  of  land  thiHt  i  in- 
tended Jemison^ould  have,  which  they  said  was 
just  the  same  that  t^  deed  contained  and  no 
more.  I  told  them  that  the  deed  must  not  include 
a  lot  that  was  called  the  Steele  place,  s^nd  they 
assured  me  that  it  did  #Qii  Upon  this,  putting 
confidence  in  thtm  tMkl^  I  signed  the  deed  to 
George  Jemison,  containing^  and  conveying  to 
him  as  I  sUjfiposed,  forty  i^r«s  of  land.  The  dee4 
feeing  coi^i^ted  they  chirt^^  me  never  to  wmf 
%\pn  the  bargain  which  I  had  fheif  made  ta^^ 
fiison;  beicai»»if  I  ^id,  th^siid  it  wouldfPlil 


0 


III    iil(iiiliiiBtili-tir  fiin 


i'ti  I  MiiliTilir  "-'•■i^>'.'.^-:a-'i'g^i^ 


'*' 


IflPl  ii,llt!lii  I  I'll"  i|"f  mi?  INP!  .lIPi'^i 


li^ 


'  "1    '*'7X.    ''■"■ 


LIFE  OF 


tlie  contract     Tljie  whole  matter  ivas  &fterwat<di 

,4isi:lMed ;   when  it  wa^  found  that  that  deed  hi* 

stead  of  containing  only  forty  acres^eontained  four 

hundred,  and  that^one  half  of  it  actudiy  belong 

-^o  my  friend,  as  it  had  been  given  to  |iim  by  Je- 

mison  as  a  reward  for  bis  trouUe  in  prociring  the 

deed,  in  the  fraudulent  inanner  above  meotioned. 

My  friend,  however;^  by  the  «^vi^  of  soat^  well 

disposed  people^  awhile  afterwal|f  gave  np  his 

claim;   but  Jemison  held  his  tiRrhe  sold  it  f^r  a 

trifle  to  a  gentlenian  in  the  south  part^f  Grenesee 

county. 

Sometime  after  the  death  of  my  son  Thomas, 

one  of  his  sons  went  to  Jemison  to  get  the  cow 

that  t  had  let  him  imve  two  years;   but  Jemison 

l^l^fused  to  let  her  go,  and  struck  the  boy  jo^^ violent 

'a  blow  as  to  almost  kill  him.     I<^ts<>n  tllen  run 

to  JelHs  Clute,  Esq^^  to  procure  a  warrant  to  take 

the  boy;  but  Young  King,  an  Iivdian  €inef,  went 

down  to  Squaw ky  hill  to  £s(}^  Clute's^  apd  settbi 

the  affair  by  Jemison's  agreeing  never  to  use  that 

Jlub  again.     Having  satisfactori^s^^nd  cH^t  tl)6 

%endly  disposition  of  my  coustn  towards  me,  I  got 

him  00*  my  premises  as  soon  as  plbsaible.. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Another  Family  Afflic^ti.'^Het  son  John's  Occupa- 
tion.—He  goes  to  Bujialo-^Becurns.^Great  ^ide  by 
him  considered  On)iAc^is^^Trouble^i^c.-»^lie  goes  lo 
S|MAa>iHty  HiU-^-^iiarrals^Is  ii^urd^kid  bytwo  In- 
IRns.— His  Funeral-f-Moiyrii^rs,  9m^^*^B^  X}Us^<iia^ 


MARY  JEMISON. 


127 


tion. — ^^OfBioous  DreaBi«^B)ack  Cbners  Advice,  kc. 
— ^Hit  Widows  and  Faiisily. — His  Age.-»--Hi8  Mur- 
derers flee.-^H«r  Ad^rioe  to  them. — They  set  out  to 
leave  their  Country .-^^pieir  Uncle's  Speiecbto  tliem 
on  Darting. — They  returns'—Jack  proposes  u>  Doctor 
to  Kill  each  other. — |3N»ctor*s  Speech  in  Rejply. — 
back's  Suicide.— Ddctor^s  Death. 

l^ouBL^I^etdom  com^  single.  While  George 
Jetnisen  wa^ib|ily  engaged  in  his  pursuit  of  wealth 
at  my  expencS,  another  event  of  iimUch  more  se- 
rious na^#re  occurred,  which  added  greatly  to  my 
afflictions,  and  conseqitfatly  destroyed,  at  least  a 
pudrt^"  the  happiness  %a:t  I  had  anticipiiteil  was 
laid  up  iA  the  archives  iii  I'rovidehce,  fo  bef  dis- 
pet^i^  oa  my  old  age. 

Mj  son  John,  was  a  doctor,  considerably  cele- 
brat^  amongst  the  Indians  6f  various  tribel,  for 
his  skill  in  during  their  diseases,  by  the  adminis- 
tration of  roots  and  herbfi,  which  he  gathered  In 
the  forests,  and  dther  places  where  they  had  been 
platHed  1^  the  hand  <>r  nature. 

iKtli^  month  of  April,  or  first  ^f  May,  1817,  he 
was  ctik4  Mpon  to  go  to  BuiTalo,  Cattaraugus  and 
Allegany,  to^fire  some  who  were  sick.  He  went, 
and  was  absent  ab(^t  two  months.  When  he  re- 
turned, he  observed  the  Great  Slide  of  the  bank  of 
Genesee  river,  a  short  distance  abpve  mjf^  house, 
which  had  taken  pli^  during  his  absence }  ahd 
conceiving  that  circuti^^mice  to  be  criinous  of  his 
own  death,  called  athir  laster  Nanc^^s,  told  har 
that  he  should  live  but  a  few  days,  and  wept  bitter- 
ly at  ttte  near  ap{A'i$^h  of  1^  dissoluticJNn.  Nancy 
endeavored  to^persuade  hltn  that  his  trotM^as 
imagtAary ,  ana  ^tt  he  <hi£^  hot  to  be  apjM  by 


i^*'"  ..Ffw^.  ,111  nwpppTOfjr' 


1^8 


■-* 


LIFJB  OP 


a  fancy  which  was  visonaiy.  Her  arguments  w^re 
inelfectual,  and  afforded  no  alleviation  to  his  men- 
tal sufferings.  From  his  sister's,  he  went  to  his 
own  house,  where  he  stayec)  ohiy  two  nights,  and 
then  went  to  Squawky  l|Bt  to  procure  money^  with 
which  to  purchase  flour  ill  the  use  of  his  family. 

While  at  Squawicy  Hilf  he  got  into  the  compli- 
ny  of  two  Squawky  HiJI  Indians,  whose  names 
were  Doctor  and  Jack,  with  whorii  i|  drank  free- 
ly, (Ipd  in  the  aflernoon  had  a  d^j^ate  quai'rel, 
in  whi^h  his  opponents,  (as  it  was  afterwards  tm- 
de^tood))  agreed  to  kill  him.  The  qna^ rd  ended, 
aiid  each  appeared  to  he  friendly.  John  bou^t 
some  spiifitS)  of  which  they  all  drank,  and  then  set 
out  for  home.  John  and  an  Allegany  Indian  were 
oijl  horseback,  and  Doctor  and  Jack  were  on  foot. 
It  w^s  dark  when  they  set  out,  Tfiey  haiJ  not 
proceeded  far,  whed  Doctor  and  Jack  commenced 
another  quarrel  with  John,  clenched  and  dragged 
him  offhis  horse,  and  then  with  «  stone  gave  hiih 
so  severe  a  blow  on  his  head,  that  some  of  his 
brains  were  discharged  from  the  wound.  The  Al- 
legany Indian,  fearing  that  his  turn  would  come 
next,  fled  for  safety  as  fast  as  possifiH. 

John  recovered  a  little  from  the  shock  h^  had 
received,  and  endeavored  to  get  to  an  old  hut  that 
stood  near;  bbt  they  caughthim, and  with  an  axe 
cut  his  throat,  and  beat  out  hisbrains^sothatyk^h^ 
he  was  found  the  contents  of  his  skull  ^ere  ijfittg 
on  his  arms. 

Some  squaws,  who  heard  th^  uproar,  ran  td£ind 
out  the  cause  of  it ;  biW;  bfefiariltliey  had  time  to 
offecriiishr  ""assistance,  the  ti^uircierers  drove  them 


intolRouse,  and  threatened  to  take  their  lives  if 


wim^itfmoN. 


129 


t^y  *d  iit  jii^  ^ewf,  4p  if  they  made  Uny 

Next  nioming)  £lft|.  €|#ti0aeut  me  word  that 
John  w«s  d^y  and  abMlfjijifofmed  me  of  the  means 
by  wiHch  litslil^  was  tfllik;    A  number  of  {leopk 
went  from  G«l4ow  tp^  where^^  the  body  lay,  iWii 
Poet,  LevVEiriiiiNlcidfe  brought  it  iip  homc^  wliere 
tfaei^erai  ^iK^ended  aAer  the  manner  of  the 
whSite  peiipIc^Plf.  Beniimiti  Luther,  atid  Mr. 
William  Wilj^^  preached  a  sermon,  and  perfoiil^ 
ed  tl^  fuaerai  services  $   and  myself  and  iyii% 
f9p9w#tlie  corpse  to  tlie  grave  as  moitrne'Ts:    I 
b»i  now  buried  my  three  sons,  whd  had  been 
notched  from  me  ty  |lic»1i^|^s  of  violence,  whito 
I  least 'expecied  It.         ''-'.  ''\."^'  ''HI  /.;'"■*  ■  '- '" 
Although  John  had  taken  the  life  dfhit^  ti^o 
biotJM^)  i|n[d  caused  me  unspeakal^le  troitl^  lilid 
grief,  bis  death  madi^  a  solemn  impression  ajp^hmy 
Bppid^  aijid  seemed,  in  additii»i  to  my  IbrBier  mfe- 
Cirtunes,  enough  to  bring  down  niy  grey  hairs  With 
s^ow  to  the  graive*    Ydt,  on  a  second  t^iought^  I 
cQuld  not  motirn  for  htm  as  I  had  ibr  my  other 
sons^  b^^^  I  knew  that  his  death  was  jiistj  aiaA 
wluii^h*  had  deserved  for  along  tipae,  from  tfil 
handfof  justice.    ' '  ,;-'k[ .    ]    \  ^J^'':^t .}'' •'; ^- ^ ; ' - '-;- ' 
>  John V  vicai  were  so  great  arid  m  agji^rtvated,, 
fthatX  have  nothing  to  liy  in  his  iavor :  yet,  j^  a 
mo^er,  I  jpitied  him  while  he  Itvetl,  and  have  €^ 
felt  a  great  degree  of  iirrow  for  him,  beoause  If 
his  bad  qcH^ucti; :  :  " 

From  his  chil^lll^,  he  carried  something  in  his 
features  jiidicativ^w^n  evil  (llsposition,  that^uld 
r^ult  in  ib#  peri^^ion  of  en^^ipeso^pme 
kind  ;  and  it  itas  the  opitiion  and^^mg  crf^be- 
nezer  Allen,  that  he  would  be  a  bad  man,  and  be 


liiMlliii 


iiiikii 


^PT 


ISO 


WFZ  Of 


gurlty  of  some  crime  4eserviqg  of  death.    Ti 
rs  no  doUlit  but  what  ttie  thoughts  of  murder  nude* 

lediiT  hi«' breast,  and  dij^Hf^  ^^  ^''^^  eteniA 
hil  difep;  for  he  ^NMpd  that  ht  had  kitied 
Thonias  fbr  a  triflirig^<pi|pE^  and  thereby  ^r&ited 
^  own  lite.  A  larmip  nt  ttie  reveMton,  «^d  foari* 
mg  that  he  might  io  some  ufng^nrdltd  momei^t  de« 
stroy  his  brothef,  he  wept  to  tite  ^ck  Chi^ 
whom  he  told  the  dream,  imd  eispessed  his  fears 
that  the  vision  #ould  be  verified.  Having  related 
the  dream,  together  with  his  feelings  on  the  .sub- 
ject, h^  a$ked  for  the  best  advice  that  his  oldfri^M 
w«8  capable  of  giving,  to  previ^nt  so  sa^  an  ev^i^ 
The  Blatk  Chief,  witlv  his  usual  promptitude,  t«dd 
^im,  that  f^f^  the  nature  of  the  dreatn,  he  was 
femM  that  soinethtng  serious  would  tai^e  place 
between  him  and  Thomas ;  and  advise^l  him  by 
aU  means  to  govern  his  temper,  and  avoid  any 
quarrel  Which  in  future  he  migUt  see  arising,  «spe- 
ciallv  if  Thomas  was  a  party.  John,  however,  M 
not  keep  the  good  counsel  of  the  Chief;  for  soon 
ai\er  he  killed  Ttiomas,  as  I  have  related* 

John  left  two  wives  with  whom  he  1^  lived  at 
the  same  tii^ne,  an(f  raised  niiii  ^.hUdr^ii.  BhwiAr 
OW6  fire  now  IMn^  at  Canfcadeii  vvith  th^hr  father^ 
and  keep  tbeiJr  children  wit^J  ad  near  them.  VtH 
clittdren  are  tolerably  white,  afid  hmver  ^ot .  li^l 
colored  hmr*  Jolyi  died  about  the  last  day  of 
June,  ji8lf,  aged  54  yeart. 

Doctor  and  Jack,  hay ing  finisj^ed  their  mufder* 
ous  design,  fled  before  th^^jfeuld  be  apprehend- 
ed, and  lay  six  weeks  in  the^^Mjs  back  of  Canis- 
t«o.  j^flteyj^l^ji  returned  and  sent  me  some  warn- 
punfny  Choipl  (rny  son-in-la«r,)  and  Sun-ge«waw 


MAE¥  JfiMISON.  1^^ 

(tb«t|9  Btf  l^eltto)  expecting  that  f  would  pardon 
t^t|^  aiiiTMAr ttiem  to  live  as  they  had  done 
#ftte  their  tHbe*  I  however,  would  ii«*t  accept 
their  wampum^  but  reit^Mjtwiih  a  request^  that, 
rather  than  have  them  pip|'4iey  wou|d  run  awi^y 
and  kee^outof  dang^  ' 

On  their  receiving  iik^  the  wampum,  they  tdok 
my  advice,  and  prepai^d  to  leave  Itieir  country  and 
people  immedJNefy.  their  rcMves  accompa- 
nied thiis  a  short  distance  on  their  journey,  and 
whim  about  to  part,  their  old  uncle,  the  Tail  Chief, 
addressed  the^  in  the  follpwing  pathetic  and  ^n- 
tU^ntal  speech: 

^vFri^ds,  hear  my  vqice  !■— When  the  Great 
SpiHt  ixiilde  Indmns,  he  made  them  ^gopd,  and 
gave  the«i  good  corn-fields ;  good  ri^rs,  weJiystor- 
ed  with  ^h  9  g0od  forests,  fined  with  game  ai^ 
good  bows  and  arrows.  But  very  soon  each  want^ 
ed  more  than  hi^  share,  and  Indians  quarre{led 
with  Indians,  and  some  were  killed,' and  others 
wfe^  wounded*  Then  tlie  Qreat  Spirit  made  a 
very  good/word,  and  put  it  in  every  Indians  breast, 
to  ^Jias  ifh^n  we  have  done  good,  or  when  f  e 
have  done  btd;  and  that  wotS  has  never  told  a 
lie..  .  -^;,;-  .,;,-■■:,.'  :,^. 

*f  Frienii  I  whenever  you  have  stoJe,  or  got 
d|iii%l^  or^ed,  that  good,  word  h^s^told  you  timt 
you  ^|ere  bsud  Indians,  and  rtiade  you  afraid  of 
good  imiians ;  and  made  you  asham^  and  look 
down/     -  ..     .,-;:,.:•  ,■■;:■;.;, tj^(\-'  -■'  /■",,:  ■  ,,  * 

"Friends !  jmi^^^mr^ greater %\m 
-^you  have  killed  ^^pidian  in  a  time 
and  made  the  wie^  hear  his  groans^  |tnd||ht  ^^^^ 
drink  his  bloods    You  areh^  Inldkn^!    lf%  you 


imm 


iii!iqilii.i   .,1 


•m^. 


:^"',    r " 


id£ 


LIFE  OF 


are  irery  bad  Indians ;  and  what  can  yau  db?; 
you  go  ituo  the  woods  t6  live  alone^  the  ghost 
John  Jemison  wilt  Ibljow  you,crying,b)oad  J  blood ! 
9Qd  will  give  yow  no  peace  1  If  you  go  ta  tlie  iaDid 
ilfj^ournation^  there  tii^atghost  will  attend  you,  and 
say  to  your  relatives,  |i^e  nay  nwirderers  !  If  you 
^aut,  it  will  blast  youk  com ;  if  you  hunt,  U  will, 
scare  ypur  ganie ;  a*^  when  you  are  asleep,  ils 
groans,  and  the  sight  of  an  avenging  tomahawk, 
will  awake  you  I  What  can  you  do  ?  X>e$«rving 
of  death,  you  cannot  live  here ;  and  to  ily  frotpi 
your  country,  to  leave  ^11  your  relatives,  aijulto 
abandon  all  that  you  have  known  to  be  pleaf^ 
and  dear^  must  be  keeper  than  an  arrow,  more  hit- 
ler than  g^  more  terrible  tlian  ci^eath  I  And  how 
naast  we  li^?— Yotir  path  will  be  tmiddy ;  lite 
woods  v/ill  be  d^-irk ;  the  lightnii^gs  will  gla^-ke 
down  the  trees  by  you**  $ide,  and  you  will  &tart  at 
©vt^ry^otind  I  peace  J^ait  left  you,  and  you  must  be 
wretched. 

"  Friends,  hear  me,  and  take  my  advice.  Re- 
turn with  us  to  your  homes.  Qfier  tx>  the  Great 
Spirit  your  best  wampum,  and  try  to  fee  g^jo^ln* 
dians!  And,  k'  those  whom  you  b^ve  berciin^ 
shall  claim  your  lives  as  their  only  satisfaction,  snir- 
gender  tl^m  cheerfully,  and  die  IHre  go^  Indluis. 
And-— "Here  Jack,  highly  incen^sd,^  inteii^^ 
tlie  old  man^  and  bade  him  sto|i  ^poBd^ing ^#e 
would  take  hts  life.  Affrighted  at  the  aiip^arance 
of  s9  much  desperation^  the  company  hastened  txh 
wards  borne,  and  left  i^^^^mid  Jack  to  consiilt 
thfti^iHl^  feelings.  w^ 

Mp^^^^^iey  were  a!df)e,  Jack  said  toDot^, 
i^'^r  die  k^re,  than  leave  my  country 


do?  W 

»Q«t  ©f 

I'M,  and 
If  yott 

ef>,  Us 

trying 

ifebit- 
d  how 

tart  at 
iiltbe 


•ance 
fdto- 
nsult 


..<? 


MARY  JEMISON. 


and  friends!  Put  the  muzzle  of  your  rifle  into  my; ' 
mouth,  and  I  will  put  the  muzzle  of  mine  inl0^4^ 
yours,  and  at  a  given  signal  we  will  discharge  them^" '- 
and  rid  ourselves  at  once  of  all  the  troubles  under 
which  we  iio^  labor,  and  sat'sfy  the  claims  which? 
justice  holds  against  us."      (1 '  '^' 

Doctor  heard  the  proposition,  and  after  a  tnt^ 
mentis  pause,  made  the  following  reply :— "  I  am 
as  sensible  as  you  can  be  of  the  utthappy  situation 
in  which  we  have  placed  ourselves.  We  are  bad 
Indians.  We  have  forfeited  our  lives,  and  must 
expect  in  some  way  to  atone  for  our  crime :  but, 
because  we  are  bad  and  miserable,  shall  we  make 
ourselves  worse  ?  If  we  wef e  now  innocent,  end  in 
a  calm  reflecting  moineiit  should  kill  ourselves, 
that  act  wbuld  make  us  bad,  and  deprive  us  of  out 
share  of  the  good  hunting  in  the  land  where  our 
fathers  have  gone !  What  would  Little  Beard*  say 
to  us  on  our  arrive.!  at  his  cabin  ?  He  would  say, 
*  Bad  Indians !  Cowards  !  You  were  afraid  to  w^ait 
till  we  wanted  your  Ijelp !  Go  (Jogo)  ^to  where 
snakes  will  lie  in  your  path  ;  where  the  panthe^ 
will  starve  you,  by  devouring  the  venison;  and 
where  you  v^ill  be  naked  and  suffer  with  the  cold  ! 
Jogo^  (go,)  none  but  the  brave  and  good  Indians 
live  here  I'  I  cannot  think  of  performing  an  act 
that  will  add  to  my  wretchedness.  It  is  hard 
enough  for  me  to  suffei'  btt-e,  and  have  good  hunt*^ 
ing  hereafter — worsr  io  lose  the  whole." 

Upon  this,  Jack  withdrew  hi;-,  proposal.  They 
went  on  about  tli|ttM!es,  and  then  turned  about 
and  cathe  home.    ^Hlty  and  uneasy,  they  ilirked 


♦I  JUleBeard  was  a  CJhief  who  died  in  1806. 

M 


mmmtim 


':'*!k'-'' — ^"^1^  "^jr^^^ 


\^%. 


134 


itSVV 


.*^: 


OF 


■>.*,- 


^^, 


about  Squawky  Hill  near  s  fortnight,  and  then 
went  to  Cattaraugus,  and  were  gone  si*  weeks. 
When  they  came  back,  Jack's  wife  earnestly  re» 
quested  hira  to  remove  his  family  to  Tonnewonta; 
J^ut  he  remonstrated  against  her  project,  and  utter- 
^!y  declined  going.  His  wife  and  family,  however, 
tifed  of  the  tumult  by  which  they  were  surr6iihd- 
ed,  packed  up  their  effects  in  spite  of  what  he 
could  say,  and  went  off. 

Jack  deliberated  a  ^hort  time  upon  the  {proper 
course  for  himself  to  pursue,  and  finally,  rather 
than  t^ave  his  old  home,  he  ate  a  large  quantity 
;;Ofmuskrat  root,  and  died  in  10  or  12  hours.  His 
family  being  immediately  notified  of  his  death,  re- 
^ turned  to  a^nd  the  burial,  and  is  yet  living  at 
Squawky  Hill. 

Nothmg  was  evf'r  done  with  Doctor,  who  con- 
tinued to  live  quietly  at  Squawky  Hill  till  some- 
time in  the  year  1819,  when  h^  died  of  Consump- 
tion. 


/rri-t "... 


^CHAPTER  XV. 


A.?''V':t«'  * 


JC 


MicaHj^rdoks,  Esq.  volunteers  to  get  the  Title  to  her 
Land  confirmed  to  herself. — She  is  Naturalized. — 
Great  Council  of  Chiefs,  to.  in  Sept.  18£3. — She 
Disposes  of  her  Reservation.-^Reserves  a  Tract  2 
miles  long,  and  1  mile  wide,  &Le.—The  Considera- 
tion bow  Paid,  &tc. 


In  1&I6,  Micah  Brooks,  Esq.  of  Bloomfield,  On- 
tario countyi  was  recommended  to  me  (as  it  "^^m 


"9'- 


"  ■^^.. 


^i 


MARY  JEMISON.  :^ 


135 


h.iid)  bv  a  Mr.  Ingles,  to  b€  a  man  of  candor,  hon^ 
csty  aiid  integrity,  who  would  by  no  means  clieat 
me  out  of  a  cent.  Mx»  Brooks  soon  after,  came  to 
my  house  and  informed  me  that  he  was  disposed 
to  assist  me  in  regard  to  my  land,  by  procuring  a 
legislative  act  that  would  invest  me  with  full  fK>wer 
to  dispose  of  it  for  my  own  b^efit,  and  give 
ample  a  title  as  could  be  ^iven  by  any  citizen 
the  state.  He  observed  that  as  it  was  thep  situatj^(^>^ 
it  wnk  of  but  little  value,  because  it  yuvs  hot  in  jj 
|j*& >€!r  to  dispone  of  it,  let  my  necessities  be  evei 
'  t  He  then  proposed  to  take  the  agency 
tha  business  upon  himself,  and  to  get  the  title  of 
one  half  of  my  reservation  vested  in  me  personally, 
upon  the  condition  that,  as  a  reward  for  his  servi- 
ces, I  would  give  him  the  other  half. 

I  sent  for  my  son  John,  who  on  being  consulted^ 
objected  to  my  going  into  any  bargain  with  Mi. 
firooks,  without  the  advice  and  consent  of  Mr. 
Thomas  Clute,  who  then  lived  on  m>  land  and 
near  rae>  Mr.  Chite  was  accordingly  called  on,  to 
whom  f  Brooks  repeated  his  former  statement, 
and  ^k  •  \.  i^t  he  would  get  an  act  passed  in  the 
Curig.  -*  «  i4li«  United  States,  that  would  invest 
me  with  a  \  '^e  riglits  and  immunities  of  a  citizen, 
so  far  as  it  respeeled  my  pre  *er'y.  Mr.  Glute, 
suspecting  that  some  plan  was  \n  operation  that 
would  deprive  me  of  my  possessions,  ^dvisdd  me 
to  have  nothing  to  say  on  the  subject  to  Mr.  Brooks, 
till  T  had;  seen  £^|P^e  Gluts,  of  Squawky  Hill. 
Soy  1  *fter  this  Tlifl|Hs  Clute  saw  Esq.  Clute,  who 
ipfor..  J  hu/i  that tnepetition  for  my  naturalization 
vould  be  presented  to  the  Legislature  of  this  State, 
iiistecd  of  being  sent  to  Congres?;  and  that  the>^ 


■    y 


mr*^ 


^i'-Y 


196 


.^f'^'s 


r; 


LIFE  OF 


1?- 


object  would  succeed  to  his  aiMl  my  satisfaction, 
Mr.  Clute  tjiei;  observed  to  hi$  brother,  Esq.  Clute, 
that  as  the  sale  of  Indian  lands,  which  had  been 
ireserved,  belonged  exclusively  to  the  United  States, 
«n  act  of  ^he  Legislature  of  New- York  could  have 
no  eflfect  in  secur tng  to  me  a  title  to  my  reservation, 
„  9r  in  depriving  me  of  my  property.  They  fuially 
)^reed  that  I  should  sign  a  petition  to  Congress, 
pfaying  fop  my  naturalization,  and  for  the  confirm- 
|lUon  of  the  titH  ''  '»^v  laud  to  me,  my  heirs,  &c. 
^  I  Mr.  Brooks  cam  »th  the  petition :  I  signed  it, 
and  it  was  witnessea  by  Thomas  Clute,  and  two 
others,  and  then  returned  to  Mr.  Brooks,  who  pre- 
sented it  to  the  Legislature  of  this  state  at  its  session 
\p  %he  winter  of  1816— J7.  On  the  19th  of  April, 
1817,  an  act  was  passed  for  my  naturalization,  and 
ratifying  and  confinning  the  title  of  my  land,  agree- 
able to  the  tenor  of  ike  petition,  which  act  Mr. 
Brooks  presented  to  me  oq  the  first  day  of  May 
following.    ..:  r^^  '^ir'^i^^fi^^;^i4S^^^^^ 

Thomas  Clute  having  exitinihed  the  lam,  told 
me  that  it  would  probably  answer,  though  it  was 
not  according  to  the  agreemest  made  by  Mr. 
Brooks,  and  Esq.  Clute  and  himself,  for  me.  I 
then  executed  to  Micah  Brooks  aod  Jellis  Clute,  a 
deed  of  all  my  land  lying  east  of  the  picket  line  on 
the  Qardow  reservation,  containing  about  7000 
actps. 

It  is  proper  in  this  place  to  observe,  in  relation 
to  Mr.  Thonas  Clute,  that  my  son  John,  a  few 
months  before  his  death,  slipped  n  to  take  him 
ibr  my  guardian,  (as  I  had  become  old  and  incapa- 
ble of  managing  my  property,^  and  to  compenaftte 
him  for  his  trouble  by  giving  nim  a  lot  of  land  on 


.  !<■ 


Mr. 


m 


^ 


>,$^^*V:  >Jf^;fi^»>.   ''; 


MARY  JEMISON. 


1S7 


the  west  side  of  ray  reservation  where  he  should 
choose  it.  I  accordingly  took  my  son's  advice, 
and  Mr.  Clute  has  ever  since  been  faithful  and 
honest  in  all  his  advice  and  dealings  with,  and  for, 
myself  and  family. 

In  the  month  of  August,  1817,  Mr.  Brooks  and 
Esq.  Clute  again  came  to  me  with  a  request  that  I 
would  give  them  a  lease  of  the  land  which  1  had 
already  deeded  to  them,  together  v/ith  the  other 
part  of  ray  reservation,  excepting  and  reserving 
to  myself  only  about  4000  acres. 

At  this  time  I  informed  Thomas  Clute  of  what 
John  had  advised,  and  recommended  me  to  do, 
and  that  I  had  consulted  my  daughters  on  the  sub- 
ject, who  had  approved  of  the  measure.  He  rea- 
dily agreed  to  assist  me ;  whereupon  I  told  hira 
he  was  entitled  to  a  lot  of  land,  and  might  select  as 
John  had  mentioned,  lie  accordingly  at  that  time 
took  such  a  piece  as  he  cho^e,  and  the  same  has 
ever  since  been  reserved  for  hira  m  all  the  land 
contracts  which  I  have  made.  ' 
"^  On  the  24th  of  August,  1817,1  leased  to  Micah 
Brooks  and  JelUs  Clute,  the  whole  of  my  original 
reservation, except  4000acres,and  Thomas Clute's 
lot.  Finding  their  title  still  incomplete,  on  account 
of  the  United  States  government  and  Seneca 
Chiefs  not  having  sanctioned  my  acts,  they  solicit- 
ed- rac  to  renew  the  contract,  and  have  the  convey- 
ance made  to  them  in  such  a  manner  as  that  they 

should  thereby  be  constituted  sole  f|ojprietors  of 
thesoiK'     '  ^^j- ^^c^^-„.^.,'^:>''  ; 

In  the  winter  df  1^22 — 3, 1  agreed  with  them, 
that  if  uicy  would  get  the  chiefs  of  our  nation,^^ 
and  a  United    States   Commissioner  of  Indian 

M2' 


.if 


TP- 


138 


•{•'I  -  vn44~''''*''">*J 


iPE  OP 


Lands,  to  meet  in  council  a*  Moscow,  Livingston 
county,  N.  Y.  and  there  concur  in  ray  agreement, 
that  I  would  sell  to  them  all  my  right  and  title  to 
the  Gardow  reservation,  with  the  excepUon  of  a 
tratt  for  my  own  benefit,  two  miles  long,  aiid  one 
mile  wide,  lying  on  the  river  where  I  should  choose 
it;  and  also  reserving  Thomas  Clute's  lot.  This 
arrangement  was  agreed  upon,  and  the  council 
assembled  at  the  place  appointed,  on  the  3d  or  4th 
day  of  September,  1823. 

-That  council  consisted  of  Major  Carrol,  who 
had  been  appointed  by  the  President  to  dispose  of 
my  lands.  Judge  Howell  and  N.  Gorham,  of  Can- 
andaigua,  (who  acted  in  concert  with  Maj.  Carrol,) 
Jasper  Parrish,  Indian  Agent,  Horatio  JoQeS|  In- 
tenpreter,  and  a  great  nimiber  of  Chiefs.  -^"'^^^^^ 

The  bargain  was  assented  to  unanimously,  and 
a  deed  given  to  H.  B.  Gibson,  Micah  Brooks  and 
Jellis  Clute,  of  the  whole  Gardow  tract,  excepting 
the  last  mentioned  reservations,  which  was  signed 
by  myself  and  upwards  of  twenty  Chiefs. 

The  land  which  I  now  own,  is  bounded  as  fol- 
lows :-*Beginning  at  the  center  of  the  Great  Slide* 
and  runtiing  west  one  mile,  thence  north  two  miles, 

*The  Gireat  Slide  of  the  bank  of  Genesee  river  is  a  curi> 
osity  worthy  of  the  attention  of  the  traveller.  In  the  month 
of  May,  1817)  a  portion  of  land  thickly  covercfd  with  tim- 
ber, situated  at  tlie  upper  end  of  the  Gardow  flats,  on  the 
west  side  of  the  river,  all  of  a  sudden  gave  way,  and  with 
a  tremendons  crash,  slid  into  the  be^d  of  the  ritrer,  which  it 
so  completely  filled,  that  the  stream  formed  a  ne«r  pi^ggage 
on  the  east  side  of  it,  whare  it  coi^nues  to  run,  without 
overflowing  the  slide.  This  slide,  as  it  now  lies»  moittkimf 
32  acres,  and  hag  a  considerable  share  of  the  timber  that 
formerly  covered  il,  stifl  standing  erect  upo^i  it,  aud  groWi^j^. 


thence 

south 

place 

Int 
ersha 
to  pay 
dredd 

Wh 
be  sol< 
amon^ 
out  an 

■      '  '  ■  "^ 

Condi 
loss 
Hea 

^^l«he^ 

her 
plie 
Wi 
Nu 

have 
viciss 
lutioi 
livtfi! 
lized 
whtc 
life] 


-yy-^M 


^mm 


■^^■"•■^■"^p^ 


■>.;^;':.0' 


MARY  JEMIfeON. 


^I'l!?:'-^ 


m 


thence  east  about  one  mile  to  Genesee  river,  thelMi 
south  on  the  west  iiank  of  Genesee  river  to  ^t 
place  of  beginning. 

In  consi<teration  of  the  above  sale,  the  purchas* 
ers  have  bound  themselves,  their  heirs,  assigns,  te« 
to  pay  to  me,  my  heirs  or  8iicce8S<M9|  three  h  iH** 
drei  dollars  a  year  forevcn  "  '-  '- 

Whenever  the  land  which  I  have  reserved,  shafi 
be  sold,  the  income  of  it  is  to  be  equally  diviieA 
amongst  the  members  of  the  Seneca  natioU|  with* 
out  any  reference  to  tribes  at  families. 


■f_>.^->'  ->- 


•<;•?: 


s:^?-^ 


;3S^^'SCCHAPTER  XVI. 


<r^^.f< 


^■h 


Conclusi(ife;-— Review  of  heir  Life. — ReHections  on  tHe 
loss  of  Liberty. — Care  she  took  to  preserve  her 


-v^ 


r 


V 


w^HeaHh.— Indians'  abstemiousness  in  Drinking,  after 
vthe  French  War. — Care  of  their  Lives,  &c. — General 
ijse  of  Spirits. — ^Her  natural  Strength. — Pukjhaseof 
her  first  Cow.— ^Means  by  which  she  has  been  sup* 
plied  with  /ood. — Suspicmns  of  her  having  been  a 
Witch,— Her  Constancy.j-^N'umber  of  Children. — 
Number  Living. — ^Their  Residence. — Closing  Re- 


flection. 


M>'m^^-^-m"^^^^s^- 


When  I  review  my  life,  the  privations  that  t 
have  suffered,  the  hardships  I  have  endured,  the 
vicissitudes  I  have  passed,  and  the  complete  Irevo- 
lutionUhat  I  have  experienced  in  my  manner  of 
living  i  -;i'hen  1  consider  niy  reduction  from  a  civi* 
lized  Ml  a  savajp^e  state,  and  the  various  steps  bj^ 
whic^^hat  process  has  been  effected,  and  that  liiy 
life  ^  fa^en  prolonged,  and  »ly  health  dnd  reas^ 


m 


»"  'W 


r. 


r>.7  ■*.    *  ,77 


W  - 


':f€r^' 


ri;.:: 


;  '>■ 


j^: 


.•■•>:• 


1  ■>¥■■■ 


140 


..^1-. 


)/^>  LIFE  OF 


f^-: 


V-  r 


spared,  it  seems  a  miracle  that  I  am  unable  to  ac- 
count for,  and  is  a  tragical  medley  that  I  hope  will 
never  be  repeated. 

The  bare  loss  of  liberty  is  but  a  mere  trifle  when 
compared  with  the  circumstances  that  necessarily 
attend,  and  are  inseparably  connected  with  it.  It 
is  the  recollection  of  what  we  once  were,  of  the 
friends,  the  home,  and  the  pleasures  that  we  have 
left  or  lost ;  the  anticipation  of  misery,  the  appear- 
ance  of  wretchedness,  the  anxiety  for  freedom, 
the  hope  of  release,  the  devising  of  means  of  es- 
caping, and  the  vigilance  with  which  we  watch  our 
keepers,  that  constitute  the  nauseous  dregs  of  the 
bitter  cup  of  slavery.  I  am  sensible,  however, 
that  no  one  can  pass  from  a  state  of  freedom 
to  that  of  slavery,  and  in  the  last  situation  rest 
perfectly  contented;  but  as  every  one  knows 
that  great  exertions  of  the  mind  tend  directly 
to  debilitate  the  body,  it  will  appe»r  obvious 
that  we  ought,  when  confined,  to  exert  all  our 
faculties  to  promote  our  present  comfort,  and  let 
future  days  provide  their  own  sacrifices.  In  re- 
gard to  ourselves,  just  as  we  feel,  we  are. 
~  For  the  preservation  of  my  life  to  the  present 
time  I  am  indebted  to  an  excellfent  constitution, 
%ith  which  I  have  been  blessed  in  as  great  a 
degree  as  any  other  person.  After  1  arrived 
to  years  of  understanding,  the  care  of  my  own 
health  was  one  of  my  principal  studies;  and 
by  avoiding  exposures  to  wet  and  cold,  by  tjiempe? 
fance  in  eating,  abstaining  from  the  use- of  spirits, 
md  shunning  the  excesses  to  which  I  was  frequently 
exposed,  1  effected  my  oliyect  beyond  what  I  ex» 


.■1* 
.  'J, 

v: 


'4^i 


[ARY  JEMISON. 


Ul 


Spirits  iijtd  tlfftGco  Imre-iiever  used,  and  I  hm% 
never  once  s&nded  an  Indian^  frolic.  When  I 
was  taken  priSmer,  and  for  sotaeCi^  aAer  tliat, 
spirits  was  not  known ;  and  when  it  ^as  first  intro^ 
ducedyit  was  in  small  quantities^  and  used  only  l^ 
the  Indians;  so  that  it  was  a  long  time  before  the 
Indian  women  begun  to  even  tai^it.  ? 

After  the  French  war,  for  a  numl;)€r  of  years,  U 
was  the  practice  of  the  Indians  of  oilr  tribe  to  send 
to  Niagara  and  get  two  or  three  kegs  of  rum,  (In 
all  six  or  eight  gallons,)  and  |ioM  a  frolic  as  long 
as  it  lasted*  When  the  rum  was  brou^t  to  the 
towHj  all  the  Indium  collected,  and  before  a  ditip 
was  drank,  gaverll  their  knives,  tomahawks,  guns, 
and  other  instriUments  of  war,  to  one  Indian,  whose 
busimese  it  was  to  4M]ry  them  in  a<  private  placse, 
keep  them  concealed,  and  remain  perfectly  softer 
till  the  frolic  was  ended.  Having  thus  divesf^d 
themselves,  they  commenced  drinking,  andcoitt^- 
ucd  their  frolic  till  every  drop  Hvas  consumed*  If 
any  1^  them  became  quarrelsome,  or  get  to  ifighttng, 
those  who  were  «ober  enough  bound  thed^  upon 
the;  grouifid,  where  they  were  obliged  to  Ire  till  Uiey 
got  sober,  aiid  then  were  unbound.  When  ^e 
fumes  of  the  spirits  had  left  the  company,  the 
sober  Indiaar^timed  to  each  the  instruments  Wllh 
which  they  had  f/ntrnftt0d  Ixim^  and  all  went  home 
Batlsiled.  A  froUc  of  thai  kind  was  held  but  ondfe 
a  year,  and  that  at  tl^e  tme  the  In4idfis  quit  their 
hunting,  and  cohteiri  wtlfi  their  deern&kins. 

In  those  frolics  tbe  women  never  participated. 
Soon  after  the  revolutionary  war,  however,  Sf^ii^ 
became  common  in  our  tribe,  and  has  been  turn 
indiscrimiately  by  both  sexes;  thougli  there  ate 


m 


1 42 


. /.•,/■^>:f^'''*^■••.•• 
^   ^    ^      LIFE  OF 


J  ";■ 


_  v^ 


auon  am  ought 


not  so  frequent  instances  of  into 
the  squaws  as  amongst  the  India 

To  the  iiuitjduction  and  use  oF  that  baneful 
article,  which  has  made  such  devastation  in  our 
tribes,  and  threatens  the  extinction  of  our  people, 
(the  Indians,^  I  can  with  the  greatest  propriety 
impute  the  wnole  of  my  misfortune  in  losing  my 
three  sons.  But  as  I  have  before  observed^  not 
even  the  lave  of  life  will  restrain  an-  Indian  from 
sipping  the  poison  that  he  knows  will  destroy  him. 
|rh6  voice  of  natui'e,  the  rebukes  of  reason^  the 
iidvice  of  jf>&rents,  the  expostulations  of  friends,  and 
the  numerous  instances  of  sudden  death,  are  ah 

^  rnsufiTicient  to  reclaim  an  Tndian,  who  has  once 
experienced  the  exhilarating  and  inebriating  effects 
of  spirits,  from  seeking  his  grave  ip  the  bottfoi  of 
hisbotttje!  ,j, 

My  strength  has  been  great  for  a  woman  ofrny 
sisse,  otherwise  I  must  long  ago  have  died  under 
the  bui'dens  which  I  was  obliged  to  carry.  I  learned 
to  carry  loads  on  my  back,  in  a  strap  placed  across 
iny  forehead,  soon  after  my  captivity ;  and  continue 

^  to  carry  in  the  same  way.  Upwards  of  thirty  years 
ago,  with  the  help  of  my  youwg  children,  I  backed 
all  the  boards  that  were  used  sibout  my  house  from 
2llleft*s  mill  at  the  outlet  of  Silver  Lake,  a  distance 
of  five  miles.  I  have  planted,  hoed,  and  harvested 
Ikirn  every  season  but  one  since  I  was  taken  pris- 
oner. Even  this  present  fall  (1823)  I  have  husked 
\x)y  corn  and  backed  it  into  the  house. 

The  first  cow  that  I  ever  owned,  I  boujicht  of  a 
$quaw  sometime  after  the  revolution.  It  had  be^a 
stolen  from  the  enemy.  1  had  owned  it  but  a  few 
days  when  it  fell  into  a  hole,  and  almost  died  before 


Mary  jemison. 


148 


e  could  get  it  out.    After  this,  the  squaw  wanted 
to  be  recanted^  but  as  I  would  not  give  up  the  covj^ 
I  gave  her  money  enough  to  make,  when  added  tP 
the  sum  whi^h  I  paid  her  at  first,  thirty-five  dollars* 
Cows  were  plenty  on  the  Ohio,  when  I  lived  theroi 
and  of  good  quality. 

For  provisions  1  have  never  suffered  since  I  came 
upon  the  flats;  nor  have  I  ever  been  in  debt  to 
any  other  hands  than  my  own  for  the  plenty  that 
I  have  shared. 

My  vices,  that  have  been  suspected,  have  been 
but  few.  It  was  believed  for  a  long  liiaiie,  1^  some 
of  our  people,  that  I  was  a  great  wit^fef  but  they 
were  unable  to  prove  my  guilt,  apd  consequently  I 
escaped  the  certain  doom  of  those  who  are  con- 
victed of  that  crime,  which,  by  Indians,  is  consid- 
ered lis  heinous  as  murder.  Some  of  my  cbifdren 
Iiaifcligbt  brown  hair,  and  tolerable  fair  skin,  which 
used  to  make  some  say  that  I  stole  them;  vet  as  I 
was  ever  conscious  of  my  own  constancy,  1  never 
thoaght  that  any  one  really  believed  that  I  was 
guilty  t)f  adultery. 

t  have  bee^i  the  mother  of  eight  children ;  three  j|i 
of  whom  are  now  living,  and  I  have  at  this  time^ 
thirty-nine  grand  children,  and  fourteen  great-* 
grand  children,  all  Bving  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Genesee  River,  and  at  feuffalo. 

I  live  in  my  own  house^  and  on  my  own  la^jL 
with  my  youngest  daughter  Polly,  who  is  raarriea 
to  George  Chongo,  and  has  three  children. 

My  daughter  Nancy,  who  is  married  to  Billy 
Green,  liveiabout  80  rods  south  of  my  house,  aiA 
has  seven  children. 
^    My  other,  daughter,  Betsey,  is  married  to  Johi 


,-'  A  '-■" 


HIMiM 


144 


LIFE  OF,  &c. 


•  ■  ^.dfe;:*<. 


Green,  lias  seven  children,  and  resides  80  rods 
north  of  my  house. 

#  Thus  situated  in  the  midst  of  toy  children,  I  ex- 
pert I  shaH  sdon  leave  the  world,  and  malce  room 
for  the  rising  generation.  I  feel  the  weight  of 
years  with  which  I  am  loaded,  and  am  iensibi^.of 
»y  daily  failure  in  seeing,  hearing  and  strength; 
but  my  oirty  anxiety  is  for  my  family.  If  my  family 
irill  live  happily,  and  lean  be  exempted  from 
trouble  while  I  have  to  stay,  I  feel  as  tho^i^h  I 
couid  |ay  down  in  peace  a  \m  tha^  has  been  check- 
ed in  almost  every  hour,  with  troubles  of  a  deeper 
dye,  than  are  commonly  experience4  by  mortals. 


f 


'?» -.:  ' 


>-^<: . :' 


m, 


^1*5   7.,/. 


A:F:^9iirBis&< 


s 


t 


An  account  of  the  destruction  of  a  part  of  the  British 
Army,  by  the  Indians,  at  a  place  called  the  Devil*s 
Bole,  on  the  Niagara  River,  in  the  year  176a 

• 

IT  is  to  be  regretted  that  ftn  event  of  so  trumcal 
a  nature  as  the  following,  should  have  escapiea  the 
pens  of  AmeHcan  Historians,  and  have  been  suf- 
fered to  slide  down  the  current  of  t'  e,  to  the 
verge  of  oblivion,  without  having  been  snatched  al- 
most from  the  vortex  of  forgetfu)ness,and  placed  on 
the  faithful  page,  as  a  memorial  of  premeditated 
cruelties,  which,  in  former  times,  were  practised 
upon  the  white  people,  by  the  North  American 
Savages. 

Modem  History,  perhaps,  cannot  furnish  a  par-  ^ 
allel  so  atrocious  in  design  and  execution,  as  the 
one  before  us,  ^d  it  may  be  questioned,  even  if 
the  history  of  ailcient  times,  when  men  fought 
hand  to  hand,  and  disgraced  their  nature  by  in- 
venting engines  of  torture,  can  more  than  produce 
its  equal. 

It  will  be  observed  in  i&e  fH'eceding  narrative, 
that  the  affair  at  the  Devil's  Hole  is  said  to  have 
happened  in  November,  1T69*  That  Mrs.  Jemi- 
son  arrived  at  Genesee  about  that  time,  is  rendered 
certain  from  a  number  of  circumstances;  and  that 
a  battle  was  fought  on  the  Niagara  in  Nov.  17^9^ 
in  wMch  two  prisoners  and  som^  o;|cen  were  taken. 

N 


3 


'k*: 


,rf., 


B*'; 


'^^^^PR?' 


ic'F,  r- 


■*n 


146 


f    ^•ftj^i^"    '■•*^^*<"■- 


.'V  ^. 


ArI>ENDIX. 


"wwTTmmmmmfl 


'%i- 

:,,'„•)(,, 


t 


IniJ  Brought  to  Genesee,  as  she  has  stated^  is  alto* 
gether  probable.  B(*t  )t  is  equally  certain  that 
the  event  which  is  the  subject  of  this  article,  did 
not  take  jilace  till  the  yeai  1763. 

tr*  the  time  of  the  French  war,  the  neighbor* 
hood  of  Forts  Niagara  and  Sclusser,  (or  Schlosser, 
Bs  it  was  formerly  written,)  on  the  Niagara  river, 
l^as  a  general  battle-ground,  and  for  this  reason, 
Mrs.  Jemison's  memory  ought  not  to  be  char|^ed 
with  ^treachery,  for  not  having  been  able  to  distin- 
gi?ish  accurately,  after  the  lapse  of  sixty  years, 
betweeri  the  circumstances  of  one  engagement 
ftnd  rbifij^  lather.  She  resided  or  the  Gene- 
see at  mefirtie'when  the  warriors  of  that  tribe 
tnarched%ff  to  5«ssist  in  laying  the  ambush  at  the 
D^viPs  Hole  ^  and  no  one  wilt  doubt  her  having 
heard  them  rehearse  the  story  of  the  event  of  that 
nefarious  campaign,  after  they  returned,   '^rr, 

^t?^^^  ©hronology  and  history  concur  in  seating  tliat 
Fort  Niagara  was  taken  from  the  French,  by  the 

*  British,  and  that  Geo.  J^rideaU*  was  killed  on  the 
25th  of  July,  ir59. 

i|f  Having  obtaioed  from  Mrs.  Jemison  a  kind  of 
mtroduction  to  the  story,!  concluded  that  if  it  yet 
remained  possible  to  procure  acorrect  account  of  the 
circumstances  which  led  to  and  attended  that  trans-' 
action,  it  would  be  highly  gratifying  to  the  Ameri- 
can public*  I  accord ijpigly  directed  a  letter  io  Mr. 
Linus  S.  Everett,  of  Buffalo,  whose  ministerial 
;  labor,  I  well  knew,  freqiB en t!y  called  him  to  Lewis- 
ton,  requesting  him  to  furnish  me  with  a  particular 
account  of  the  desi^uction  of  the  Briti'ih,  at  the 
lirae  and  place  before  mentioned!*  He  obligiogly 
compUed  with  my  request,  and  gave  nie  the  result 


.■V"'  '"'■'J 


:-■/ 


H 


'■>•    'i 


'0-' 


wmmiaimiA 


lit 


•  ""■  m^i 


mp. 


:,^ 


147 


of  his  inquiries  on  that  subject,  in  the  following 
letter:-* 

Copy  of  a  letter  from  Mr.  Linus  S.  Everett,  dated 
Fort  Sdusser^  a9th  December,  1823, 

Respected  and  dearfriendf 

I  hasten,  with  nrnch  pleasure,  to  comply  with 

yauf  request,  in  regard  to  the  affair  at  the  Devil's 

|)ole.    I  have  oflen  wondered  that  no  authentic 

account  ^as  ever  been  given  of  tiiat  bloody  end 

!  tragical  scene. 

I  have  made  all  tne  inquiries  that  appear  to  be 
of  any  use,  and  proceed  to  give  yon  the  result. 
-   "At  this  plaee^  (Fort  Sclusserj^  an  old  gentleman 
•%ow  resides,  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  theb^st 
V  account  of  tlie  affair  that  can  be  easily  obtained* 
fHis  name  s  Jesse  Ware — his  aofe  about  f4.    AU 
.,  though  he  was  not  a  resident  of  this  part  of  tha 
Jtountry  at  the  time  of  the  event,  yet  from  his  in« 
^timaie  aeqiuainlance  with  one  of  the  survivors,  he 
js  able  to  grm  much  information,  which  otherwiit 
.■JcouW  .nc4  b^  obtamcd.  -'^ 

^ "     The  ftccoilidt  that  he  gives  is  as  follows  r— In 
July,  1739?  the  british,  under  Sir  William  John- 
ston;, took  possfiSsioii  of  Foi'tii  Niagar^a  and  Sclus* 
jjier,  whi      had  before  been  in  thct  hands ^f  the 
Frencho     Af,  this  tjme,  the  Seneca  Indi*»kts,  (which 
^.  were  a  ntimetfous  and  ^jjowerful  n»tion>)  were  bos* 
,.''  tile  to  the  British,  and  wiirmly  allied  to  the  French. 
,.  '^.  These  two  posts,  (vfe.)  Magarii  and  Sclusser,  were 
. .  %  of  great  importance  to  the  #ri?,i»h,  on  the  account 
•  V/  of  affording  the  means  of  wmmunication  with  the 
.;;,;"  posts  above^  or  on  the  'U|')fj>er  lalkes.     In  1760,  a 
■■  '*''  contract  waw  made  betw^fen  Bk  William  Johnston -^^ 


I 


•* 


)    r.-^-, 


ikH  •'^^  ij'a'v ,'■ 


m 


■  >[,.. 


mttvmmM 


..<' 


<  14a 


APPENDIX. 


■yi^ 


Vf«l 


and  a  Mr.  Ste^man,  to  censtruct  a  portage  road 
from  Queenston  landing  to  Fort  Sclusser,  a  dis- 
tance ibf^ight  miles^iii  order  to  facilitate  the  trans- 
portation of  jMroyisionj  amrtibnition,  &c.  from  one 
place  to  the  other.  lit  conforniity  to  this  agree- 
ment, on  the  20th  of  jf^^ne,  1763,  S|tedraan  had 
confipieted  his  roaad,  and  appeared  at  Queenston 
Lanclipfo  (now  Lew istoo,)  with  twenty-five  portage 
wagoa$,  anfl  one  hundred  horses  and  oxen,  to 
transj^t  to  Fort  Scliisser  the  king^s  stores. 

'  4t  this  time  Sir  Wflliaiti  Johnston  was  suspicious 
of  tne  Intentions  of  the  Senecas:  fof  after  the  suir- 
render  of  the  ferts.  by  the  Frtncll^  they  had  ap- 
peared uneasy  and  hostile.  In  Orjder  to  prevent 
trie  teams,  drivers  and  goods,  receivings Injui'yj  |l^ 
detached  300  troops  to  guaitd  tb(^m  across  the 
portage.  The  teams,  under  this,  escort,  started 
from  Queenston  landing^^Stedm^n,  who  Had  the 
charge  of  the  whole,  was  on  horse  back,  and 
rode  betweeii  the  troops  tmd  teams  ^  all  the  troops 
being  in  front.  On  a  small  hill  near  the  Devil's 
Hole,  at  that  time,  was  a  redoubt  of  twelve  men, 
which  served  as  a  kind  of  guard  on  ordinary  occa- 
sions, against  the  depredations  of  the  savages. 
<<  On  the  arrival  of  the  troops  and  teams^M  the 
Devil's  Hole,"  says  a  manuscript  in  the  hands  of 
my  informant,  ^Hhe  sachems,  chiefs  and  warriors 
of  the  Seneca  Indians,  sallied  fVom  the  adjoining 
woods,  by  thousands,  (where  they  had  been  con- 
cealed for  some  time  b^ore,  for  that  nefarious  pur- 
pose,) and  falling  upop  the  troops^  teams  and  dri- 
vers, and  the  guard  of  twelve  men  before  men- 
tioned, they  killed  all  ^e  men  but  three  on  the 
spot,  Or  by  driving  them,  together  with  the  teams. 


dowi 

eighl 

by  tj 

doul 

thatj 

scei 

hell 

the 

and! 


4' 


\.M^ 


ilbHiMiiMiii 


^m^ 


lis- 
tns# 
me 
ree- 
led 

ItOQ 

ige 


mt 


\K 


.i^ri-jwv^-^r-.'i;,.— '?lb-^'-.^^  •»■  ■ -;' 


'*»->-■ 


r'^^fcjfl' 


f- 


■■■'Ji.i"  ^.  ':5f -vf  S^F''^. 


APPENDIX. 


149 


■'•<*■ 


dowii  the  ]H'ecipice,  which  was  about  seventy  or 
eighty  feet !  The  Indians  seized  Stedman's  horse 
by  the  bridle,  while  he  was  on  him,  designing,  no 
doubt,  to  make  his  sufferings  more  lasting  than 
that  of  his  companions:  but  while  the  bloodv 
scene  was  acting,  the  attention  of  the- Indian  who 
held  the  horse  of  Stedman  being  arrested,  he  cut 
the  reins  of  his  bridle-— clapped  spurs  to  his  horse, 
and  rode  over  the  dead  and  dying,  into  the  adja- 
cent woods,  without  receiving  injury  from  the  ene- 
my's firing.  Thus  he  escaped;  and  beside^  him 
two  others — one  a  drummer,  who  fell  among  the 
trees,  was  caught  by  his  drum  strap,  and  escaped 
unhurt;  the  other,  one  who  fell  down  the  preci- 
pice and  broke  his  thigh,  but  crawled  to  the  land- 
ing or  garrison  down  the  river  "  The  following 
September,  the  Indians  gave  Stedman  a  piece  of 
land,  as  a  reward  for  his  bravery*  -,;. 

With  sentiments  of  respect,  I  r^main^  sir^  Vuur 


sincere  friend,        -   .^, 
Mr,  J.  E,  Seaver, 


L.  S.  EVFRET' 


i^r'-#^^?:.^^^^^ 


:i«r" 


A  particular  account  of  Oeneral  Sullivan's  Expedi- 
-^  tion  against  the  Indians,  in  the  western  part  of  the 
State  of  New- York,  in  1779. 


.?f^v 


•^i-. 
,•*■ 


1  '*; 


r-J^ 


It  has  been  thought  expedient  tolpiiblish  in  this 
volume,  the  following  account  of  Gen.  Sullivan's 
expedition,  in  addition  to  the  facts  related  by  Mrs. 
Jemison,of  the  barbarities  which  were  perpetrated 
upon  Lieut.  Boyd,  and  two  others,  who  were  taken, 
and  who  formed  a  part  of  his  army,  <&•.    A  de- 

N2 


r  'Xc^ 


;v 


-V^-'*  >: 


^ 


■baNOM^Mb 


,'■'>'' 


4dd 


APPENDIX. 


i^'^'rfM  r 


* 


tailed  account  of  this  expedition  has  nev?r  lieen  in 
thfe  hands  of  the  pubhc;  and  as  it  is  now  produced 
from  a  source  deserving  implicit  credit,  it  is  pre- 
sumed that  it  will  be  received  with  satisfaction. 

John  Salmon,  Esq.  to  whom  we  are  happy  to 
acknowledge  our  indebtedness  for  the  subjoined 
account,  is  an  old  gentleman  of  respectability  and 
good  standing  in  society ;  and  is  ai  this  time  a  re- 
sident in  the  town  of  Groveland,  Livingston  county, 
New-York.  He  was  a  hero  in  the  American  war 
for  independence;  fought  in  the  battles  of  his 
country  under  the  celebrated  Morgan ;  survived 
the  blast  of  British  oppression ;  and  now,  in  the 
decline  of  life,  sits  under  his  own  well  earned  vine 
0nd  fig-tree,  near  the  grave  of  his  unfortunate 
^countrymen,  who  fell  gloriously,  while  fighting  the 
the  ruthless  savages,  under  the  commaiid  of  the 
gallant  Boyd.  ,  ^  .^..^-vfev  .,,..  .,v  ,;.,.,;  ^ .. 

In  the  aututnn 'afteir  the  battle  at  Monmouth, 
(l778,)  Morgan's  riflemen,  to  which  corps  I  be«> 
longed,  marched  to  Schoharie,,  in  thfe  state  of  New- 
York,  and  there  went  into  winter  quarters.  The 
company  to  which  I  was  attached,  was  commanded 
by  Capt.  Michael  Simpson;  and  Thomas  Boyd, of 
Northumberland  county,  Penns}  Iv£(nia,  was  our 
LiiButenant.      . 

In  the  following  spring,  otir  corps,  together  with 
the  v/hole  body  of  troopd  under  the  command  of 
Gen.  Clinton,  to  the  anvdiunt  of  about  1500,  cm- 
barked  in  boats  at  Schenectady,  and  ascended  the 
Mohawk  as  far  as  German  Flats.  Thmce  we 
took  a  direction  to  Otsego  lake,  descended  the 
Susquehanna,  and  without  any  remarkab.^  occur- 
rencGi  arrived  at  Tioga  Point^  where  « ur  troop$ 


united 
mand 
a  part 
by  the 
Tha 
on  the 
in  som 
unimp 
the  ju 
Sullivs 
procee 
miles  r 
met  b) 
well  ki 
Range 
of  log! 
driven 
their  i 
The  ei 
th^yle 
page, 
they  n 
of  cor 
Qpenir 
uation 
round; 
other 
opposi 
their 
throw 
shells 
erful  1 
ths^  1 
throu 


jiw^fr^' 


'  -m^ 


151 


united  with  an  army  of  1500  men  u rider  the  conif 
mand  of  Gen.  Sullivan^who  had  marched  through 
a  part  of  New-Jersey,  and  had  reached  that  place 
by  the  way  of  Wyoming,  some  days  hefore  u$* 

That  part  of  the  »xmy  under  Gen.  Sullivan,  bad, 
on  their  arrival  at  Tioga  Point,  found  the  Indi'^ns 
in  some  force  there,  with  whom  they  had  had  some 
uniniportant  skirmishes  before  our  arrival.  Upon 
the  junction  of  these  two  bodies  of  troops,  Gen* 
Sulhvan  assumed  the  command  of  the  whole,  and 
proceeded  up  the  Tioga,  When  within  a  few 
miles  of  the  place  now  called  Newtown,i  we  were 
met  by  a  body  of  TndiaRs,  and  a  number  of  troops 
well  known  in  those  times  by  the  name  of  Butler's 
Rangers,  who  had  thrown  up,  hastily,  a  breastwork 
of  logs,  trees,  &c.  They  were,  however,  easily 
driven  from  their  works,  with  considerable  loss  on 
their  part,  and  without  any  injury  to  aur  troops. 
The  enemy  fled  with  so  mu6h  precipitation,  xhat 
th^y  left  behind  them  some  stores  and^camp  equift*^ 
page.  They  retreated^but  a  short  distance  before 
they  made  a  stand,  and  built  anothei  breastwork 
of  considerable  length,  in  the  woods,  near  a  small< 
Qpening.  S^ivan  was  soon  apprized  of  theJp  sll** 
uation,  divided  hi^  army,  and  attenip'^^'^d  to^^ur- 
round,  by  sending  one  half  to  the  rigni  and  the 
other  to  the  left,  with  directions  to  meet  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  enemies*  In  order  to  prevent 
their  retreating,  he  directed  bomb-shells  to  be 
thrown  oyei*  them,  which  mas  done :  but  on  the 
shells  bursting,  the  Indians  suspected  that  a  pow^ 
erful  array  had  opened  a  heavy  fire  upon  them  on 
that  side^  and  fled  wkli  the  utmost  precipitation 
through  one  wing  of  the  st.*rro«nding  army.    A 


liitt 


■••"^^w'^mrilF^ 


mifi-^ 


':¥i*' 


152 


APPENmX; 


'^^'i 
r"-- 


great  humb^  of  the  enemy  were  killed,  and  our 
army  suffered  considerably. 

The  Indians  having,  in  this  manner,  escaped) 
they  went  up  the  river  to  a  place  called  the  Nar- 
rows, where  they  were  attacked  by  our  men,  who 
killed  them  in  great  numbers,  so  that  the  sides  of 
the  rocks  next  the  river  appeared  as  though  blood 
had  been  poured  on  them  by  pailfulls.  The  Indians 
threw  their  dead  into  the  river,  and  escaped  the 
best  way  they  could.    '  ::%^^ 

From  Newtown  our  army  went  directly  to  the 
head  of  the  Seneca  lake ;  thence  down  that  lake 
to  its  mouth,  where  we  found  the  Indian  village 
at  that  place  evacuated,  except  by  a  single  in- 
habitant— a  male  child  about  seven  or  eight  years 
of  age,  who  was  found  asleep  in  one  of  the  In- 
dijui  huts.  Its  fate  I  have  never  ascertained.  It 
wai  taken  into  the  care  of  an  officer  of  the  army, 
wbo,  on  account  of  ill  health,  was  not  on  duty,  and 
who  took  tlie  child  with  him,  as  I  have  since  un- 
derstood, to  his  residence  on  or  near  the  North 
river.-  ',  v;---^:  .^;,.    -^v;..>v->;":^4?.^ 

From  the  mouth  of  Seneca  take  we  proceeded, 
without  the  occurrence  of  any  thing  tf£  importance, 
by  the  outletf  of  the  Canandaigua,  Honeoye,  and 
Hemlock  lakes,  to  the  Jieaut^of  Connissius  lake, 
where  the  army  encami^  on  the  ground  that  is 
now  called  Henderson's  Flats. 

Soon  after  the  army  had  encamped,  at  the  dusk 
of  the  evening,  a  party  of  twenty-one  men,  under 
the  command  of  L>ieut.  Boyd,  was  detached  from 
the  rifle  corps,  and  sent  out  for  the  purpose  of  re- 
eannoitering  the  ,ground  near  *he  Genesee  river, 
at  a  place  now  called  Williamsburg,  at  a  distance 


.\^    .. 


"^f^"' 


IP 


^^^^ 


!^V^ 


■W^M 


m 


our 


APPBJNmX. 


159 


iVom  the  cftmp  of  alKmt  aieven  mHes,  bnder  the 
guidance  of  a  faithful  Ittdian  |>ilot.  That  place 
was  then  the  site  of  an  Iddiini  villape^  and  it  was 
apprehended  diat  the  Indians  and  f^gers  might 
be  there  or  in  that  vicinity  in  consldt&iRliale  force. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  party  atWtlliamshitrg, 
they  found  thatthe  Indian  village  had  bi^en  recently 
deserted^ as  the  tires  in  the  huts  were  still  burning. 
The  night  was  ^o  far  spent  when  they  got  ta  their 
place  of  destination^  that  Lieutenant  Bd^d,  con« 
sidering  thd  fatigue  of  his  men,  cOi)iclad^  to  re- 
main during  thenightiiearthe  village^  and  to  send 
two  tnen  me8sen;gets  >With  a  report  to  the  damp  in 
the  morning.  Accordingly,  a  little  before  day* 
break,  he  despatched  two  men  to  the  niain  body  of 
the  afmy,  with  information  that  the  enem/  had 
not  been  discovered. 

After  day-light,  Lieut.  Boyd  cautiously  crejH 
from  the  place  of  his  concealment,  and  upon  get** 
ting  a  view  of  the  viliage,  discovered^  two  Indians 
hovering  about  the  setu^menti  "One  of  whom  was 
immediately  shot  and  scalped  by  ope  of  the  rifle- 
men, whose  name  was  Mur|;^y.  Supposing  that 
if  there  were  Indians  in  that  vicinity,  or  near  the 
village,  they  would  be  in.<i»n«i!y  alarmed  by  this 
occurrence,  Lieut.  Boyd  bought  it  most  prudent 
to  retire,  and  make  the  best  of  his  way  to  the  gen- 
eral  encampment  of  our  army.  They  accordirigly 
set  out  and  retraced  the  steps  which  they  had  taken 
the  day  before,  till  they  were  intercepted  by  the 
enemy. 

On  their  arriving  within  about  one  mile  arid  a 
half  of  the  main  army,  they  were  surpriajied  by  the 
sudden  appearance  of  a  body  of  Indian-j,  tc  the 


'A'^^'-fi. 


i>- 


.  ''^■V.K.. 


% 


'i 


,<sMi- 


IfcWtjiu**  „ 


^'mmmimr-m ani  i  ■  nijir 


w^ 


».("»*. I ) 


iiip»'p«iw^ 


APPENDIX. 


f ."? 


'^^f 


amount  of  five  hundred^  under  the  command  of 
the  celebrated  Brandt,  and  the  same  number  of 
Rangers,  commanded  by  the  infamous  Butler,  who 
had  secreted  themselves  in  a  ravine  of  considerable 
extent,  which  lay  acrpss  the  track  that  Lisut.  Boyd 
liad  pursued. 

Upon  discovering  the  enemy,  and  knowing  that 

^i$k^  only  chance  fcHT  escape  was  by  breaking  through 
f:heir  line^  (one  of  the  most  desperate  enierprize9 
ever  undertaken,)  Lieut.  Boyd,  after  a  k1$w  words 
of  encouragement,  led  his  men  to  the  attempt. 
^s  extraordinary  as  it  may  seem,  the  first  onset, 

tlhough  unsuccessful,  was  made  without  the  lo^  of 

r«  man  on  the  part  of  the  heroic  b^nd,  though  sev- 
eral of  the  enemy  were  killed.  Two  attempts 
more  were  made,  which  were  equally  unsuccessful, 
and  in  which  the  whole  party  fell,  except  Lieut. 
Boyd,  and  eight  others.  Lieut.  Boyd  and  a  soldier 
by  the  name  of  Parker,  were  taken  prisoners  on 
the  spot,  a  part  of  the  remainder  fled,  and  a  part 
fail  on  the  ground,  apparently  dead,  and  were 

^overlooked  by  the  Indians,  who  were  too  much 
engaged  in  pursuing  the  fugitives  to  notice  those 

;  who  felLv^fe 
^p^When  Lieut.  Boyd  found  himself  a  prisoner,  he 
solicited  an  interview  w|th  Brandt,  whom  he  well 
kt^ew  comnaanded  tbf  Indians.  This  Chief,  who 
>vas  at  that  moment  near,  inimediately  presented 
himself,  when  Lieut.  Boyd,  by  one  of  those  ap« 
peals  which  are  kiiown  only  by  those  who  have 
been  initiated  and  instructed  in  certain  mysteries, 
and  which  never  fail  to  bring  succor  to  a  <' distress- 
ed brother ,''  addressed  him  as  the  only  source  from 
4  ^^  which  he  could  expect  a  respite  from  cruel  punish^ 


ment 
Brandt 
assurec 
Lieu 
were  i 
Indian 
on  the 
called 
Town 
called 
sence, 
Butler 
hadle 
tain  fi 
her,  s 
Gen. 
hesita 
liver  i 
Indiai 
encoi] 
Butle 
Relyi 
had  I 
to  fu] 
form 
thres 
som4 
havi 
by  8 
^  -    T 
thei 
on  1 
oft 
to  I 


"y.^ 


fA^A 


■^^^^•^BiWPi^lll^""" 


nd  of 
berof 
•,  who 
erable 
Boyd 


^' .  , 


■■^^'^Jr:-':^"^:- 


jAPPENDtX. 


155 


inent  or  death.  Tlie  appeal  was  recognized,  and 
Brandt  immediately,  and  in  the«trongest  ianguagei 
assured  him  that  his  life  should  be  spared. 

Lieut.  Boyd,  and  his  fellow-prraoner,  Parker^ 
were  immediately  conducted  by  a  party  of  the 
Indians  to  the  Indian  village  called  BeiMrd^s  Town^ 
on  the  west  side  of  Genesee  river,  in  wfiar  is  now 
called  Leicester.  After  their  arrival  at  Beard's 
Town,  Brandt,  their  generous  preserver,  being 
called  on  service  which  required  a  few  hours  aib« 
sence,  left  them  in  the  eare  of  the  British  Col. 
Butler,  of  the  Rangers ;  who,  as  sOon  as  Brandt 
had  led  them,  commenced  an  interrogation,  to  ob- 
tain from  the  prisoners  a  statement  of  the  num- 
ber, situation  and  inteittions  of  the  army  under 
Gen.  Sbliivan ;  and  threatened  them,  in  case  they 
hesitated  or  prevaricated  in  their  answers,  to  de- 
liver thetn  up  immediately  t6  be  maslacred  by  the 
Indians,  who,  in  Brandt^s  absence,  and  with  the 
encouragement  of  their  more  savage  commander, 
Butler,  were  ready  to  commit  |he  greatest  cruelties. 
Relying,  probably,  on  the  promises  which  Brandt 
had  made  them,  and  which  he  undoubtedly  meant 
to  fulfil,  they  refuted  to  give  Butler  the  desired  in- 
formation. Butler,  upon  this,  hastened  to  put  his 
threat  into  execution.  They  were  delivered  to 
some  of  their  most  ferocious  enemies,  who,  after 
having  put  them  to  very  severe  torture,  killed  them 
by  severing  their  heads  from  their  bodies. 

The  main  army,  immediately  afler  hearing  of 
the  situktion  of  Lieut.  Boyd's  detachment,  moved 
on  towards  Genesee  river,^  tuid  finding  the  bodies 
of  those  who  were  slain  in  Boyd's  heroic  attempt 
to  penetrate  tUi:pu£h  the  enemy's  line,  buried  them 


J-uV.^->.' 


V,.^V'^: 


I 


v-».>.-,-'    .  ■• 


^/# 


iipp 


:t> 


1{^6 


■pip 
APPENDIX. 


in  what  is  now  the  town  of  Groveland,  where  the 
grave  is  to  be  seen  at  this  day. 

Upon  their  arrival  at  the  Genesee  river,  they 
crossed  over,  scoured  the  country  for  some  dis- 
tance on  the  river,  burnt  the  Indian  villages  on  the 
Genesee  flats,  andi  destroyed  all  their  corn  and 
other  means  of  subsistence. 

The  bodies  of  Lieut.  Boyd  and  Parker  were 
found  and  buried  near  the  bank  of  Beard's  creek, 
under  a  bunch  of  wild  plum-trees,  on  the  road,  as 
it  now  runs,  from  Moscow  to  Geneseo.  I  was  one 
^  jof  those  who  committed  tothe  earth  the  remains  of 
py  friend  and  companion  in  arms,  the  gaHant  Boyd. 
,Im mediately  after  these  events  the  army  com- 
menced its  march  back^  by  the  same  route  that  it 
came,  to  Tioga  Point  y  thence  down  the  Susque- 
hanna to  Wyoming ;  and^  thence  across  the  toxxti' 
try  to  Morristown,  New- Jersey,  where  we  went  itito 
winter  quarters* 

Gen.  Sullivan's  bravery  is  unimpeachable.  He 
was  unacquainted^  however^  with  fighting  the  In- 
j^iansj  and  made  use  of  the  be&ttfieans  to  keep 
them  at  such  a  distance  that  they  could  not  be 
|>rought  into  an  engagetuj^t.  4  It  was  his  practice, 
inorning  and  evening,  to  have  cannon  fired  in  or 
near  the  camp,  by  which  the  Indians  were  notified 
of  their  speed  in  marcliing,  and  of  his  situation, 
and  were  enabled  to  make  a  seasonable  retreat. 

The  foregoing  account,  according  to  the  best  of 
iny  recollection  is  strfetly  correct. 

JOHN  SALMON, 

Groveland,  January  24^  1824. 
^^   Esq.  Salmon  was  fbrmeriy  from  Northumber- 
i  Itend  count3r>  Pennsylvania,  and  was  first  Serjeant 
ij}n  Capt.  Simpson's  and  Lieut.  Boyd's  company. 


I.  •    * 


mk 


**»' 


the 


^■•■a'< 


VlV», 


:f. 


fi 


.*'*' 


APPENDIX. 


^57 


Tradition  of  the  Origin  of  the  Seneca  Nation. — Their 

■'j\^    Preservation  from  utter  extinction. — The  Means  by 

"^^'    whiqh  the  People  who  preceded  the  Senecas  were 

destroyed — and  the  Cause  of  the  different  Indian 

;.    Languages.  > ..«; 


>    IV 


?5 


The  tradition  of  the  Seneca  Indians,  in  regard 
to  their  origin,  as  we  are  assured  by  Capt.  Horatio 
Jones,  who  was  a  prisoner  five  years  amongst  them, 
and  for  many  years  since  has  been  an  interpreter, 
and  agent  for  the  payment  of  their  annuities,  is 
thatthey  broke  out  of  the  earth  from  a  large  moun- 
tain at  the  head  of  Canandaigua  Lake,  and  that 
mountain  they  still  venerate  as  the  place  of  their 
birth;  thence  they  derive  their  name,  "  Ge-nun- 
de-wah,"*  or  Great  Hill,  and  are  called  "  The 
Great  Hill  People,"  which  U  the  true  definition  of 
the  word  Seneca.  y'       .#^.»    > 

The  great  hill  at  the  head  of  Canandaigua  lake, 
from  whence  they  sprung,  is  called  Genundewah, 
and  has  for  a  long  time  past  been  the  place  where 
the  Indians  of  that  nation  have  met  in  council,  to 
hold  great  talks,  and  to  offer  up  prayers  to  the 
Great  Spirit,  on  account  of  its  having  been  their 
birth  place;  and  also  in  consequejice  of  tliedes-' 
traction  of  a  serpent  at  that  place,  in  ancient  time, 
in  a  most  miraculous  manner,  which  threatened 
the  destruction  of  the  whole  of  the  Senecas,  and 
barely  spared  enough  to  commence  reglenishing 
the  earth.  ;       ■  ,  .  "^^'^^.'^^^^i-'^' 

The  Indians  say,  says  Cs^t.  Jones,  tlmt  the  fort 
on  the  big  hill,  or  Genundewah,  near  the  hc;ad  of 
Canandaigua  lake,  was  suril'ounded  by  a  monstrous 


3"*',  v^ This  by  some  is  spoken  Ge-nun-de-wah-gauh.  |M^/ ^ 


■MiS. 


^id 


I    , 


} 


.wmtm'm^ 


tJ^^WIffc 


3       "' 


m 


^^,  'J 


158 


;    V 


^    -C    '-'li.*^v 


•q,--.  ...y,  '.'^■'■ 


,»■•. 


%   .,  .  ■■■'  ■  J 


APPENDIX.  M^-J'\:  '':-y. 

serpent,  whose  head  and  tail  came  together  at  the 
gate.  A  long  time  it  lay  there,  confounding  the 
people  with  its  breath.  At  length  they  atteu)pted 
to  make  their  escape,  some  with  their  hommany- 
blocks,  and  others  with  different  implement^  of 
household  furniture;  and  in  marching  out  of  the 
fort  walked  down  the  throat  of  the  serpent.  Two 
orphan  children,  who  had  escaped  this  general  de- 
struction by  being  left  some  time  before  on  the 
outside  of  the  fort,  were  informed  by  an  oracle  of 
the  means  by  which  they  couid  get  rid  of  their 
formidable  enemy — which  was,  to  take  a  small 
bow  and  a  poisoned  arrow,  made  of  a  kind  of  wil- 
low, and  with  that  shoot  the  serpent  under  its 
scales.  This  they  did,  and  the  arrow  prov •d  ef- 
fectual ;  for  on  its  penetrating  the  skin,  tfie  serpent 
became  sick,  and  extending  itself  rolled  down  the 
hill,  destroying  all  the  timber  that  was  in  it&  way, 
disgorging  itself  and  breaking  wind  greatly  as  it 
went.  At  every  motion,  a  human  head  was  dis- 
charged, and  rolled  down  the  hill  into  the  lake, 
where  they  lie  at  this  day,  in  a  petrified  state, 
having  the  hardness  and  appearance  of  stones, 
•"^  To  this  day  the  Indians  visit  that  sacred  place, 
to  mourn  the  loss  of  their  friends,  and  to  celebrate 
some  rites  that  are  peculiar  lo  themselves.  To 
the  knowledge  of  white  people  there  has  been  no 
timber  on  the  great  hill  since  it  was  first  discovered 
by  them,  though  it  lay  apparently  in  a  state  of  na- 
ture lor  a  great  number  of  years^  iivithout  cultiva- 
tion. Stones  in  the  shape  of  Indians^  heads  may 
be  seen  lying  in  the  lake  in  great  plenty,  which 
are  said  to  be  the  same  that  were  deposited  there 
at  the  death  of  the  serpent.  ^?;^f^ 


'  f- 


.0,. 


.t  -  >■ 


y^ 


^^y 


:(.■-    <^..^f    ■ 

'■V"- '/'■'■  1  '■'-:: 

■i'"'K:>'/.'<v 

A,-          .'         .y-^l,      :-.:'Vv.-, 

APPENDIX.             .t; 

159 


licej 
•ate 
To 

no 
;red 

na- 
iva- 


■*'• 


1  -<■ 


The  Senecas  have  a  tradition,  that  previous  to, 
and  for  some  time /after,  their  origin  at  Genunde- 
wah,  this  country,  especially  about  the  lakes,  was 
thickly  inhabited  by  a  race  of  civil,  enterprizing 
and  industrious  people,  who  v/ore  totally  destroyed 
by  the  great  serpent,  that  afterwards  surrounded 
the  great  hill  fort,  with  the  assistance  of  others  of 
the  same  species ;  and  that  they  (the  Senecas) 
went  into  possession  of  the  improvements  that  were 
left. 

'  In  those  days  the  Indians  throughout  the  whole 
country,  as  the  Senecas  say,  spoke  one  language  ; 
but  having  become  considerably  numerous,  the 
before  mentioned  great  serpent,  by  an  unknown 
influence,  confounded  their  language,  so  that  they 
could  not  understand  each  other ;  which  was  the 
cause  of  their  division  into  nations,  us  the  Mo-^ 
nawks,  Oneidas,  &'•.  At  that  time,  however,  the 
Senecas  retained  their  original  language,  and  con- 
tinued to  occupy  their  mother  hill,  on  which  they 
fortified  themselves  against  their  enemies,  and  liv- 
ed peaceably,  till  having  offended  tlie  serpent,*  they  . 
were  cut  off  as  before  stsited.  , 


:<^K- 


^'*-' 
..   .^ 


OF  THEIR  RELIGION— FEASTS— AND 
GREAT  SACRIFICE.      .^,^ 

Perhaps  no  people  are  more  exact  observers  of 
religious  duties  than  those  (ndians  among  the  Sen- 
ecas, who  are  denominated  pagans,  in  contradis- 

*Th«  pagans  of  the  Senecas  b<^teve  that  all  the  littfe 
snakes  were  made  of  the  blood  of  the  great  tierpent^^ik(Xer 
it  rolled  into  the  lake. 


t-%,j 


i.^" 


-'5^'' 


.'->-.':: 


5*i.: 


5>- 


N  ;^ 


•If.*'*'- 


v--< ' 


hi 


(1' 


v> 


'-  •*•■ . 


"^i. 


f'\'f"W^.'^f^>Vi^irWfJ^sSlffW^'^^ 


'J-   V. 


nyi- 


.  <  ■ 


f'V, 


160  APPENDIX. 

.  V       .,  -        j;      ■.     ■         ■    ..        .  '.('  .    ••  ■    '  y'iir''".  J 

'■<■.•  •■  ,_.;  '    .      „  ■  -.  •  .•    .       .  ■'        ■    '"  v  A-*'.  .  ...        ,-.  -  .„>    ..   -      . 

tinction  from  those,  who,  ha\ing  renounced  some 
^  of  their  ffMner  superstitioos  ootions,  have  ohiain- 
ed  the  riame  of  Christians.  The  tradilioiiary 
faith  of  their  fathers,  having  been  orally  transmit- 
ted to  them  from  time  immemorial,  is  implicitly 
believed,  scrupulously  adhered  to, and  rigidly  prac- 
tised. They  are  agreed  in  their  sentiments — are 
all  of  one  order,  ana  have  individual  nivd  pobhc 
good,  especially  among  themselves,  for  the  grieat 
'motive  whicln  excites  them  to  attend  to  those  mo- 
ral vntues  tiiat  are  directed  and  explained  by  all. 
their  rules,  and  in  iVii  theh-  ceremonies.  nf 

Many  years  have  elapsed  since  the  introduction 
tion  of  Christiao  Missionaries  among  them,  v/hom 
,j; they  have  heard ^  and  very  generally  isnderatand 
■'"•■the  purport  of  the  message  they  were  sent  to  deliver. 
■■..'They  say  that  it  is  highly  probable  that  Jesos 
.^"Christ  came  ioto  the  world  in  old  times^  to  establish 
a  religion  that  wooid  promote  the  happiness  of  the 
white  people,  on  the  other  side  of  ihe  great  water, 
■  (meanitig  toe  sea,)  and  that  h*^  died  for  the  sins  of 
.  his  people,  as  the  oVis^rionaries  have  informed  tliem  t 
"IrBut^  they  say  that  Jesos  Christ  had  nothing  to  do 
■;^with  thens,  amd  that  tlje  Christian  .religion  was  not 
desvi^rroed  for  their  benei^t ;  but  rather,  should  they 
embrace  it,  they  are  co,niMlent  it  would  make  them 
.  worse, and  consequently  do  them  an  injury.    They 
say,  also,  thai  the  Great  Ooodl  Spiiit  gave  them 
tiieir  religion;  and  thint  it  is  better  adapted  to  their 
circurnstancesj,  situation   and  habits,  and  to  the 
promotioo  of  their  present  comfort  and  ultimate 
itappiitiess,  tliian  aoy  system  that  ever  h.as  or  carii 
be  devised.,      They.,  however,  believe,  that  lh<'^ 
Christian  religion  is  better  calculated  for  the  good 

:»•■' 


the 


*  ''if  ■;  '  '  '".  ■  ,  ■■„■'"■■■ 


161 


M^  white  jw*op!(S  tb€«i  theirs  ifc,   md:  ^wmwiet 

"■tlio«e  who-  have  eimbltoisd;  i .,  dp  eot  attctulmo-re 

stnetiy  to  its  pTm^pm,  mad  L*el  rnare  engaged  for 

its  support  and  illiumT^*  «rmji)g  tljemselves.    At 

#j5«  present  'di3oej  tl::.y  are  opposed  lo  preachers  or 

ssilii  rq>|>6'«Sir.4«^tertified  l>y  all'  means- to  adlier^  to 

■'|^_Tb^'tel»«H^  ifj'k  Great  Gbod  Spirit,  (wbc^ 
w<^'5?  '^aiill  iji  tli^-  Saieca  hngmge  Nati-w.aO"e-aj)..as 
#e  €re«ifor  of  tli^  worlds  am!  of  every  good 
#iiog— ^that  im''mMe  men,  and  ail  meifensive'  ain- 
MaHtj  that^  he  ^applies  iifserj  -with  all  the  c5>rfiforts 
o/Hfe;  andihat  he  ltpr«fticularly  partiai  to  the 
inclMng,  whom  M>ey?.,s^y  are  his  peciiliar  people. 
"f'iey  ako  bfeiieve  tliat  lie  ?s-^ pleased  iiv giving  them 
(elj'e  Irjdkris?)  g^od  giftS:;*'  iaird  that-  heJs  highly 
gratified-  #2ti  their,, good  co!jdtict-~^tlrat  he  abiiors 
iheir  vite^^  arftbat  he  kwillmg  to  -puiiigh  them 
ibtt^mr  bad  c-ondact,  noix>n\yin  this  ^.w.orld,  but 
in  ■d,ht\m  state c/f  existence.  ■■•  ilis-.rej*ide»eej'|hey 
mxppme^  ^m  ft  ?4 'great  distmlee  firotii'  ■  tlsl^m^-in:;  a 
comVixy  ifmt  h  p^^rfectiy  p!#asant^  \vlief^,.^ie^ty 
abourids^  even  to  profygian*  That  there  the  ^^i I 
is  coimpk'idy  feriih,  aad  ih,e -reasons  so  raild  that 
the  corn  oever  faik  t©  be  good— that  tlte  deer, 
elkj  imfMo^^  turkki^  an4  other  useful  animals,  are 
tmtrmimfiymid  tlmtthe^rests  are  well  calculated  to 
tmMf^^^  their  hnntitig  ihem  v'vith  success^— that 
tlmstxmsM  are  pure,  and  abous^d  with  Jfish ;  aiid 
that  r«othirig  is  waMtlug^  ia  render  fruitioH  com- 
plete. Over  this  territory  they  say  Nauwaneu 
prestdes  as  an  all-powerftit  Meg ;  and  that  without 
^ouosel  he  admits  to  bis  pleasures  ail  whom  lie 

0  2 


.«*V.'      ..^-«#'i<vtf 


*#-*f>**<5Maif**w*««*'^'**»* 


»jM<uitWlw»iwB<'  Otjiv^ji'ff 


'*c* 


<.,w< 


.«Ji ."\  .<•''' v^V^^"''' 


s 


considers  to  be  worthy  of  enjoying  so  great  a  st^ta 
of  blessedness. 

To  this  being  theyciddrefss  prayers^  offer  sacri* 
fices,  give  thanks  for  favors,  and  perform  many 
acts  of  devotion  and  reverence. 

They  likewise  believe  |;hat  Natiwanew  hs^^  a 
brother  that  is  less  powerful  than  himself, an«i  who 
is  opposed  to  him,  and  to  everyone  thf^  i^orwisfei'f 
t© be  good:  that  this  bad  Spirit  made  sill  evil 
things^  snakes,  wolves^  catamounts^  and  ?i!!  othef 
poisonous  or  noxious  aninjpJs  and  beasts  of  prey, 
except  the  bear,  which;^  on  the  account  of  the  ex- 
cellence of  its  meat  for  food,  and  skin  for  clothing, 
?  they  say  was  made  by  Na^iwaneu.  Besides  all 
this  they  say  he  makes  and  sends  them  their  dis- 
eases, bad  weather  and  bad  crops,  and  that  he 
makes  and  supports  witches.  He  owns  a  large 
Cbuniry  adjoining  that  of  his  brother,  vith  whom 
he  is  contiiiually  at  variance.  His  fields  are  un- 
productive; thick  clouds  intercept  the  rays  of  the 
sUftj  fi^rid  consequently  destructlire  frosts  are  fre- 
quent ;  ga^nfie  is  very  scarce,  and  not  easily  taken ; 
ravenous  beasts  are  numerous ;  reptiles  of  every 
poisoned  tooth  lie  in  the  path  of  the  traveller;  the 
streams  are  muddy,  and  hunger,  nakedness  and 
general  mi  icry,  are  severely  feh  by  those  who  un- 
fertunately  become  his  tenants.  He  takes  pleasure 
in  afflicting  the  Indians  here,  and  after  their  death 
receives  all  those  into  his  dreary  dominions,  who 
in  their  life  time  have  been  so  vile  as  to  be  rejected 
by  Nauwaneu,  under  whose  eye  they  are  continued 
in  an  uncomfortable  state  forever.  To  this  source 
of  evil  they  offer  some  oblations  to  abate  his  ven- 

J;eance,  and  rendei:  bim  propitious.    They,  how- 

vv'r*''.-ii  ■  ■  ■•■•       ■  ■'   ■i'' 


'th- 


■p 


■■itrv,"« 


■■■?! 


^ri* 


aI^ 


mi*f 


^^^■':.;:4  i: 


ever,  baliave  him  to  b^j  in  a  degree^,  under  subjec- 
tion to  bis  brother^  and  incapable  of  executing  his 
plaos  on^Iy  by  his  high  permission* 

Public  religious  duties  are  atteiided  to  in  the 
eelebrati<^n  of  particular  festivals  and  sacrifices, 
which  are  observed  with  circumspection  and  at- 
tmi^^A  with  decorum. 

In  each  year  they  have  five  feasts^  or  stated 
times  im  assembling  in  their  tribes,  and  giving 
thassks  to  Najuwaneu,  for  the  blessings  which  they 
have  i?eceived  from  bis  kind  and  liberal  and  provi- 
dent hand  ;  and  also  to  converse  upon  tjhe  best 
means  of  meriting  a  continuance  df  his  favors. 
The  first  of  these  feasts  is  immediately  after  they 
have  finished  sugaringj  at  ^vhich  time  they  give 
thanks  for  the  favorable  weather  arid  great  quan- 
tity of  sap  they  have  had,  and  for  the  sugar  that 
they  have  been  allowed  to  make  for  the  benefit  pf 
their  families,  At  this,  as  at  all  the  succeeding 
feasts,  the  Chiefs  arise  singly,  and  a<idress  the  au^ 
dience  in  a  kind  of  exhortation,  in  which  they  ex- 
press their  own  thankfulqess,  urge  the  necessity 
and  propriety  of  general^ratitude,  and  point  oiit 
the  course  which  ought  jtp  be  pursued  by  each  in- 
dividual, in  order  that  Nauwaneu  may  continue  to 
bless  them,and  that  the  evil  spirit  may  be  defeated. 

On  these  occasions  the  Chiefs  describe  a  perfect- 
ly straight  line,  half  an  inch  wide,  and  perhaps 
ten  miles  long,  which  they  direct  their  people  to 
travel  upon  by  placing  orie  foot  before  the  other, 
with  the  heel  of  one  foot  to  the  toe  of  the  other, 
and  so  on  till  they  arrive  at  the  end.  The  mean- 
ing of  which  is,  that  they  tnust  not  turn  aside  to 
thi  right  hand  or  to  the  left  into  the  p&th$  of  vice, 


n 


# 


*  J 


'ij'  ■ ' 


•^^'■••'■■r"^ 


*<»itollfai.iiiii«i«     .,-<t«<»i4i,Wiiiii i.iiiillrtWMinM I  i>i»>rt»MLli| 


fel^lf^Tpf 


■  ^^ .../ 


,/»'■. 


API»ENWI. 


hut  keep  straight  ahead  in  t|je  wgy  of  well  doing, 
th^ t, will  lead  tlientt  to  the  pacadise  nf  Nauwaneu. 

The  lecoiid  feast  is  after  plaptikig;  when  they 
render  thaoHs  for  the  |i|ei^aQtr^s  of  the  season — 
for  4;he  good  time  th^y  have  %l^  for  |>reparing 
their  ground  and  plaiitii^th^ir<^rn|  midar«  hi- 
structed  by  th^ir  Chieft,  by.what  niesins  to  inerit  a 
good  harvest. 

When  the  green  corn  becqmet^  fi^fase,  they 
hold  their  third,  or  grem  cor|i  fea3t.  Their  fourth 
isxelebrate^  after  pora  hai^est  5  aa^d  the  .fiitfe  at 
the  close  of  thek  year,  and  is  a|3»rays  celebrat^  at 
'4^e  time  of  ilie  old  moon  iri  the  last  oif  January 
or  first  of  February.  This  to  deserv^  a  partic- 
ular description.  ■  ^ 

The  Indians  havji^  returned,  floihiiuntlhg,  and 
having  brought  inali  ^e  veJ>isor^and  skiiis  that  they 
have  takeo,  ai;branfu|tfe  ia  appointed,  says  Mrs, 
lemison^  c<)nsisting  of  fr^  t^ii  t^  $#enty  active 
Rien,  to  superintend  tli^  festivk^^  of  the  great  sac- 
r^e  and  thanksgiving  th«^  is  ^  be  immediately 
celebrated.  This  being  done,  jM-epiiratiorjs  are  made 
at  the  council-house,  or  place  of  meeting,  for  the 
reception  and  accommodation  oC  the  Whole  tribe; 
tnd  then  the  ceremoaies  are  commenced,  and  the 
whole  is  conducted  with  a  ffj^eiit  degree  of  order  and 
harnj#ny,  uiider  the  direction  of  the  committee. 

Two  white  4og%*  ^yiout  spot  or  blemish,  are 
selected  ^if  SMcii  can  te  found,  and  if  not,  two 
that  have  the  fewest  agots)  from  those  belonging 
?lo  the  tribe,  and  killed  n^ar  the  doOr  of  the  coun- 
cil-house, hy  being  sfriingled.    A  woutid  on  the 

'**  This  was  the  practf^in  form<^'  times;  but  at  presefit  I 
iim'>i|lforme4  that  onljr  im^  dog  is  sacfrifictd. 


vv  ■'  > ;  (■; 


t^.' 


">t,f-f>.; 


ir^ 


|bejr 

itig 

iti* 

rita 


nt 
iary 


'•^, 


i^PENDlX. 


unimal  or  an  cfiusion  of  blood,  would  spoil  the 
victim,  and  render  the  sacrifice  useless.  The  dogs 
are  then  painted  red  on  their  faces,  edges  of  their 
ears,  and  on  various  parts  of  their  bodies,  and  are 
curiously  decorated  with  ribbons  of  different  colors, 
and  fine  feathers,  which  are  tied  and  fastened  on 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  the  most  elegant  ap« 
pearance.  They  are  then  hung  on  a  post  near 
the  door  of  the  council-house^  at  the  height  of 
twenty  feet  from  the  ground.  ^  "       '  ^  '^^  "  • 

This  being  done,  the  frolic  is  commenced  by 
those  who  are  present,  while  the  committee  run 
through  the  tribe  or  town,  and  hurry  the  people 
to  assemble,  by  knocking  on  their  houses.  At 
this  time  the  committee  are  naked,  (wearing  only 
a  breech-clout;)  and  each  carries  a  paddle,  with 
which  he  takes  up  ashes  and  scatters  them  about 
the  house  in  everv  direction.  In  the  course  of  the 
ceremonies,  all  the  fire  is  extinguished  in  every 
hut  throughout  the  tribe,  and  new  fire,  struck  from 
^the  flint  on  each  hearth,  is  kindled,  after  having 
v«^^emoved  the  whole  of  the  ashes,  old  coals,  &c. 
jjlaving  done  this,  and  discharged  one  or  two  guns, 
Hhey  go  on,  and  in  this  manner  they  proceed  till 
they  have  visited  every  house  in  the  tribe.  This 
finishes  the  business  of  the  first  day. 
'  On  the  second  day  the  committee  dance,  go 
through  the  town  with  bear-skin  on  their  legs,  and 
at  every  time  they  ^tart  they  fire  a  gun.  They 
also  beg  through  the  tribe,  each  carrying  a  basket 
in  which  to  receive  whatever  may  be  bestowed. 
The  alms  consist  of  Indian  tobacco,  and  other  ar- 
ticles that  are  used  for  incense  at  the  sacrifice. 
Each  manager  at  this  time  carries  a  drii^d, tortoise 


,  ^^  ^ 


\.y 


»^flMMlK«lMit''.iM«iWni^a,'. 


•^ 

W, 


1.^ 


■S-. 


lea 


-'"^V'^/'  f 


APPENDIX. 


^'f'M 


It 


or  turtle  shell,  containing  a  few  beans,  which  he 
frequently  rubs  on  the  w^lls  of  the  houses,  both 
inside  and  out.  This  kind  of  manoeuvering  by  the 
committee  continues  two  or  three  days,  during 
which  time  the  people  at  the  councki-house  recre- 
ate  themselves  by  dancing. 

On  the  fourth  or  fifth  day  the  committee  make 
false  faces  of  husks,  in  which  theyfun  about, 
making  a  frightful  but  ludicrous  appearance.  In 
this  dress,  (still  wearing  the  bear-skin,)  they  run  to 
the  council-house,  smearing  themselves  with  dirt, 
and  bedaub  everyone  who  refuses  to  contribute 
something  towards  filling  the  baskets  of  incense, 
jwhich  they  continue  to  carry,  soliciting  alms. 
During  all  this  time  they  collect  the  evil  spirit,  or 
drive  it  ofi'  entirely,  for  the  present,  and  also  con- 
centrate within  themselves  all  the  sins  of  their 
tribe,  however  numerous  or  heinous^  *  ^r^^ 

On  the  eighth  or  nintli  day,  the  committee  hav- 
ing receive^  all  the  sin,  as  before  observed,  into 
their  own  bodies,  they  takedown  the  dogs,  and 
after  having  transfused  the  whole  of  it  into  one  of 
their  own  number,  he,  by  a  peculiar  slight  of  hand, 
or  kind  of  magic,  works  it  all  out  of  himself  inta 
the  dogs.  The  dogs,  thus  loaded  v^ith  all  the  sins 
of  tlie  people,  are  placed  upon  a  pile  of  wood  that 
is  directly  set  on  fire.  Here  they  are  burnt,  to- 
gether with  the  sins  with  which  they  were  loaded;^ 
surrounded  by  the  multitude,  who  throw  incense  of 
tobacco  or  the  like  into  the  fire,  the  scent  of  which 
they  say,  goes  up  to  Nauwaneu,  to  whom  it  is 
pleasant  and  acceptable. 

This  feast  continues  nine  days,'"'  and  during  that 

^4t|ijresent)  as  I  have  b«en  iofocmed,  thi^  feast  is  not 


^k(t'"^ 


"'^:d 

tOfind^m.    . 

./  • 

\.M 

liM^B,(.r, 

■--K..v*» 

)rt 


:-.•<. 


"^'^*  i  -i. 


time  tl 
year  pi 
througj 
regulaf 

On 
an  eh 
beans,| 
till  th< 
mess  ji 
eat  wi| 
others 
one  V 
consu 
the  p< 
and  t 
place 
ness  < 
obser 
degre 
Tl 
who 
litel) 
imp( 
erall 


( 

dai 
ths 


"V..: 


)  lie 
»oth 
the 
•fng 
cre- 


In 

to- 
rt. 


APPENDIX. 


let 


time  the  Chiefs  review  the  national  affairs  of  the 
year  past;  agree  upon  the  best  plan  to  be  pursued 
tiirough  the  next  year,  and  attend  to  all  internal 
regulations.  ■'     '  /^' 

On  the  last  day,  the  whole  company  partake  of 
an  elegant  dinner,  consisting  of  meat,  corn  and 
beans,  boiled  together  in  large  kettles,  and  stirred 
till  the  whole  is  completely  mixed  and  soft.  This 
mess  is  devoured  without  much  ceremon}^ — some 
eat  with  a  spoon,  by  dipping  out  of  the  kettles  5 
others  serve  themselves  in  small  dippers  ;  some  in 
one  way,  and  some  in  another,  till  the  whole  is 
consumed.  After  this  they  perform  ihe  war  dance, 
the  peace  dance,  and  smoke  the  pipe  of  peace ; 
and  then,  free  from  iniquity,  each  repairs  to  bis 
place  of  abode,  prepared  to  commence  the  busi- 
ness of  a  new  year.  In  this  feast,  teotperance  is 
observed,  and  commonly, order  prevails  in  a  greater 
degree  than  wotiM  naturally  be  expected. 

They  are  fond  of  the  company  of  spectators 
who  are  disposed  to  be  decent,  and  treat  them  po- 
litely in  their  way ;  but  having  been  frequently 
imposed  upon  by  the  whiteS|.  theyjtreat  them  gen- 
erally with  indifference.  '" 


iS 


!f'^^\. 


OF  THEIR  DANCES. 


;-*^-v.' 


f 


e  war 


>^  Op  tfiese,  two  only  will  be  noticed. 

dance  is  said  to  have  originated  about  the  time 

that  the  Six  Nations,  or  Northern  Indians,  com- 

commonjiy  held  more  than  from  five  to  seven  days.  In  for- 
mer times,  and  till  within  a  few  years,  nine  days  were  par- 
ticularly observed,  ,^^ 


«)■,«"  ^'  v;fj 


-  + 


''%. 


4 


& 


^jfrrpy^ 


'•v-s'-. 


^i^'- 


\ 


.■* 


■Y^L^i^v.vij^i- 


m 


u.->iLk' . 


T"-' 


^w 


"T- . . 


:fm 


hS 


nienced  the  did  war  with  the  Cherokees  and  other 
Southera  Indian  Nations,  about  one  handed  years 

-;^Vi  W^hen  a  tribe,  or  number  of  tribes  of  the  Six 
^  Natfions,  had  assembled  fbr  the  purpose  of  going 
to  battle  with  their  enemies,  the  Chiefs  sung  this 
song,  and  accompanied  the  music  with  dancing, 
and  gestures  that  corresponded  with  the  sentiments 
expressed,  as  a  kind  of  stimulant  to  increase  their 
courage,  and  anxiety  to  march  forward  to  the 
place  of  carnage.     *^  M^vi  v  r  'f/r-  . 

Those  days  having  passed  away,  the  Indians  at 
this  day  sing  the  ^  war  song,'  to  commemorate  the 
^achievements  of  their  fathers,  and  as  a  kind  of 
amusement.  When  they  perform  it,  they  arm 
themselves  with  a  war-club,  tomahawk  and  knife, 
and  commence  singing  with  firm  voice,  and  a  stern, 
resolute  countenance :  but  before  they  get  through 
they  exhibit  in  their  features  and  actions  the  most 
shocking  appearance  of  anger,  fury  and  vengeance, 
that  can  be  imagined :  No  exhibition  of  the  kind 
can  be  more  terrifying  to  a  stranger. 

The  song  requires  a  number  of  repetitions  in 
the  tune,  and  has  a  chorus  that  is  sung  at  the  end 
of  each  verse.  I  have  not  presumed  to  arrange  it 
in  metre ;  but  the  following  is  the  substance :  **  We 
are  assembled  in  the  habiliments  of  war,  and  will 
go  in  quest  of  our  ejiemies.  We  will  march  to 
their  land  and  spoil  their  possessions.  We  will 
take  their  women  and  children,  and  lead  them  into 
captivity.  The  warriors  shaft  fall  by  our  war* 
clubs — we  will  give  tlpm  no  quarter.  Our  ton^ft- 
hawks  we  will  dip  i%their  brains  I  with  our  scalp- 
ing knives  we  will  scalp  them.''    At  each  period 


'^■' 


■/-' 


■■<i','< 


')/ 


169 


*,^.:<t!.v'^ 

comes  on  t!ie  chorus,  which  consists  of  one  mono- 
syllable only,  that  is  sounded  a  number  of  times, 
and  articulated  like  a  faint,  stifled  groan.  This 
word  is  "  eh,"  and  signifies  "  we  will,"  or  "  we  will 
go,"  or  "  we  willdo."  While  singing,  they  per- 
form'the  ceremony  of  killing  and  scalping,  with  a 
great  degree  of  dexterity.  .^.vv^ 

The  peace  dance  is  performed  to  a  tune  without 
words,  by  both  ssxes.  The  Indians  stand  erect 
in  one  place,  and  strike  the  floor  with  the  heel  and 
toes  of  one  foot,  and  then  of  the  other,  (the  heels 
and  toes  all  the  while  nearly  level,)  without  chang- 
ing their  position  in  the  least.  The  squaws  at  the 
same  time  perform  it  by  keeping  the  feet  close  to- 
gether, and  without  raising  them  from  the  ground, 
move  a  short  distance  to  the  right,  and  then  to  the 
left,  by  first  moving  their  toes  and  then  their  heels. 
This  dance  is  beautiful,  and  is  generally  attended 


with  decency. 


P" 


.■•.'....'..■*ai 


'/, 


'^*'*-.:'^ 


^^; 


^r 


OF  ^THEIR  GOVERNMENT. 


m  Their  government  is  an  oligarchy  of  a  mixed 
nature ;  and  is  administered  by  Chiefs,  a  part  of 
whose  offices  are  hereditary,  and  a  part  eletitivew 
The  nation  is  divided  into  tribes,  and  each  tribe 
commonly  has  two  Chiefs.  One  of  these  inherits 
his  office  from  his  father.  He  superintends  all 
civil  affairs  in  the  tribe ;  attends  the  national  coun- 
cil, of  which  he  is  a  member;  assents  to  all  convey- 
ances of  land,  and  is  consulted  on  every  subject 
of  importance.  The  other  krelected  by  the  tribe, 
and  can  be  removed  at  the  pleasure  of  his  constit- 


.>^: 


'v"5! 


■■      (:■ 


".^r 


'M 


^  .'i'^' 


s'  f 


170 


.^v 


■rf-im 


l"     \': 


APPENDIX. 


I  ''^ 


■■<•& 


%^:' 


,*"'.^. 


iliBtits  fbrmalconduct.  H^'atsdls  a  membef  of  the 
national  council :  but  his  principal  business  is  to 
superintend  the  military  concerns  of  his  tribe,  and 
in  war  to  lead  his  warriors  to  battle.  He  acts  in 
concert  with  the  other  Chief,  and  their  word  is  im- 
plicitly relied  on,  as  the  law  by  which  they  mlist  be 
governed.  That  which  they  prohibit,  is  not  med- 
dled with.  The  Indian  laws  are  few,  #nd  easily 
expounded.  Their  business  of  a  public  nature  is 
transacted  in  council,  where  every  decision  is  final. 
They  meet  in  general  council  once  a  year,  and 
sometimes  oftener.  The  administration  of  their 
government  is  not  attended  with  expense.  They 
\  have  no  national  revenue,  and  consequently  have 


k' 


no  taxes. 


■^'; 


M 


1i^ 


^A^ 


IHE  EXTENT  AND  NUMBiiR  OF  THE  SIX 

1-^S:   .  -  . .  p#-]N[4Tio]vs,.|ii^--;;:;'^^ 

<J  iTflE  Six  Nations  in  the  state  of  New-York  are 
located  upon  several  reservations,  from  the  Oneida 
Lake  to  the  Cattaraugus  and  Allegany  rivers. 
"^"^Jk  part  of  those  nations  live  on  the  Sandusky,  in 
the  ktat**  of  Ohio,  viz — 380Cayugas,  lOOSenecas, 
64  Mohawks,  64  Oneidas,  and  80  Onondagas. 
The  bulk  of  the  Mohawks  are  on  Grand  River, 
Upper  Canada,  together  with  some  Senecas,  Tus- 
caroras,  Cayugas,  Oneidas,  and  Onondagas. 

In  the  state  of  New- York  there  are  5000,  and  in 
the  state  of  Ohio  688,  as  we  are  assured  by  Capt. 
Horatio  Jones,  agent  for  paying  their  annuities^ 
making  in  the  whole,  in  both  states,  5688.  j|^i^|j^ 

,f'  :'-'■■■  \  ■:-'4i':-.  ■ 


.■:vt< 


K 


#:■. 


vV; 


^- 


W 


'     ■      ■        ,  >  ■    ■  ' 


1    ^> 


ir 


■!»t  ■ 


/•\ 


^■ 


.i-^. 


¥^:- 


APPENDIX. -t^  ^    >;. 
OF  THEIR  COURTSHIPS,*  kc. 


171 


.^.  When  sd  Indian  ?es  a  squaw  whom  lie  fanties, 
fie  8end»  a  pi  sent  to  her  mother  or  parents,  who 
on  receiving  it  consult  with  his  parents,  his  friends, 
and  each  other,  on  the  propriety  and  expediency 
of  the  proposed  connexion.  If  it  is  not  agreeable, 
the  present  is  returned;  but  if  it  is,  the  lover  is 
informed  of  his  good  fortune,  and  immediately  goes 
to  hve  with  her,  or  takes  her  to  a  hut  of  his  own 
preparing. 

Polygamy  's  practised  in  afew  instances,  and  is 
not  prohibited. 

Divorces  are  frequent.  If  a  difficulty  of  impor- 
tance arises  between  a  married  couple,  they  agree 
to  separate.  They  divide  their  property  an  ^  chil- 
dren ;  the  squaw  takes  the  girls,  the  Indian  the  beys, 
and  both  are  at  liberty  to  marry  again. 

They  have  no  marriage  ceremony,  nor  form  of 
divorcement,  other  than  what  has  been  mentioned. 


■-^:<j': 


*? 


OF  FAMILY  GOVERNMENT. 

1n  their  families,  parents  are  very  mild,  and  the 
mother  superintends  the  children.  The  word  of 
the  Indian  father,  however,  is  law,  and  must  be 
obeyed  by  the  whole  fhat  are  under  bis  authority. 

One  thing  respecting  the  Indian  women  is  wor- 
thy of  attention,  and  perhaps  of  imitation,  although 
it  is  now  a  days  considered  beneath  the  dignity  of 
the  ladies,  especially  those  who  are  the  most  refin- 
ed ;  and  that  is,  they  are  under  a  becoming  subiec- 
tion  to  their  husbands.     It  is  a  rule,  inculcated  in 


'•i.K\^  '.' 


-  ^^^y^ 


-*s-      . 


■  (1,  »•" 


in 


APPENDIX. 


all  the  Indian  tribes,  and  practised  tlirougliout  their 
generations,  that  a  squaw  shall  not  walk  before  her 
Indian,  nor  pretend  to  take  the  lead  in  his  business. 
And  for  this  reason  we  never  can  ?ee  a  party  on 
the  niarch  to  or  from  hunting  and  the  like,  in  which 
the  squaws  are  not  directly  in  the  rear  of  their 
partners.  ,    '  '.  '  ^     ■■■r'.'^'V^'^''*' '  ''^V 


/< 

';«', 


!v;w 


Vl       OF  THEIR  FUNERAtS.  - 

The  deceased  having  been  laid  out  in  his  best 
clothing,  is  put  into  a  cofRn  of  boards  or  bark,  and 
)  with  him  is  deposited,  in  every  instance,  a  small  cup 
and  a  cake.  Generally  two  or  three  candles  are 
also  put  into  the  coffin,  and  in  a  few  instances,  at 
the  burial  of  a  great  man,  all  his  implements  of 
war  are  buried  by  the  side  of  the  body.  The  coffin 
is  then  closed  and  carried  to  the  grave.  On  its 
being  let  down,  the  person  who  takes  the  lead  of 
the  solemn  transaction,  or  a  Chief,  addresses  the 
dead  in  a  short  speech,  in  which  he  charges  him 
not  to  be  troubled  about  himself  in  his  new  situa- 
tion, nor  on  his  journey,  and  not  to  trouble  his 
friends,  wife  or  children,  whom  he  has  left.  Tells 
him  that  if  he  meets  with  strangers  on  his  way,  he 
must  inform  them  what  tribe  he  belongs  to,  who  his 
jrelatives  are,  the  situation  in  which  he  left  them, 
and  that  having  done  this,  he  must  keep  on  till  he 
arrives  at  the  good  fields  in  the  country  of  Nau- 
^  tlvaneu.  That  when  he  arrives  there  he  will  see 
all  his  ancestors  and  personal  friends  tliat  have 
gone  before  him;  who,  together  with  all  the 
Chiefs  of  celebrity^  will  receive  him  joyfully,  and 


,'W\^:' 


^¥:k 


M 


i^'>. 


n: 


II: 


#.'■;'■: 


m. 


ifx 


.  !i^^-. 


J 


■IP 


fm 


¥  •  ^' 


at 


vrr 


~'  •'  'W.?^' 


APPENDIX. 


179 


furnish  him  with  evm^y  article  of  perpetual  happi- 
ness* 

The  grave  is  now  filled  and  leil  till  evening, 
when  some  of  the  nearest  relatives  of  the  dead  build 
afire  at  the  head  of  it,  near  which  they  set  till 
morning.  In  this  way  they  continue  to  practise 
nine  successive  nights,  when,  believing  that  their 
departed  fVi#nd  has  arrived  at  the  end  of  his  jour- 
ney, they  discontinue  their  attention.  During  this 
time  the  relatives  of  the  dead  Are  not  allowed  to 
dance. 

Formerly,  fVolics  were  held,  after  the  expiration 
of  nine  days,  for  the  dead,  at  which  all  the  squaws 
got  drunk,  and  those  were  the  only  occasions  oH 
which  they  w^re  intoxicated:  but  lately  those  are 
discontinued,  and  squaws  feel  no  delicacy  in  get^ 
ting  inebriated. 


itua- 
his 
Tells 
,  he 

10  his 
hem, 
ill  he 
Nau- 

11  see 
have 

the 
,  and 


OF  THEia  CREDULITY. 

V  As  ignorance  is  the  parent  of  credulity,  it  is  if  of 
a  thing  to  be  wondered  at  that  tlie  Indians  should 
possess  it  in  a  great  degree,  aiid  even  suffer  them- 
selves to  be  dictated  and  governed  by  it  in  many 
of  the  most  important  transactions  of  their  lives. 
^  They  place  great  confidence  in  dreams,  attach 
some  sign  to  every  uncommon  circumstance,  and 
believe  in  charms,  spirits,  and  many  supernatural 
things  that  never  existed,  only  in  minds  enslaved 
to  ignorance  and  tradicron:  imt  in  no  instance  is 
their  credulity  so  conspicuous;  as  in  their  unalter- 
able belief  in  watches. 


%^ 


/-tr  ■.:■<■  M,^ ■,..:•'■,■■;.  .-    •■'■■  -':.)  ■■ . 

>  ■<  ■  ■  ■     • .   1  ■ '   „■  .■■■.. 

.^.,.,  ...       :-''■■         ■  ■■  ■         ■■     V      •>  ■  v-^ 


■,v).;    _tjS; 


mmm 


'^mw^ 


lip-    .'^,- 


^M^'.X:fM'^^ 


APPENDIX 


:SN,     ^.j..';.       *S^'...- 


I. 


i, 


;  *they  helhve  ihete  are  mm.f:of  thes'isty  and  that 
next  to  the  author  of  evll_^  tkey  are  the  greatest 
scourge  te  their  peopk.  Thelerm  witch^  by  thenij 
is  used  teh  io,  the  mmmime  wM  (kmmme  gender, 
mid  iBBMes  ^A  pe'xmn  to  whom  zk^  evil  deity  Ims 
delegated  power  t©  infiHSt  disease^^  cause  deatb^ 
blast  core,  'bri-Pig  bad  vceatlierj  and  io  short  to  caur^e 
almost  ^imy  calamity;  to  wirieh  they  are  liable. 
With  thh  impressioirij  aod  belie'viog  that  it  k  their 
mftud}  duty  to  destroy,,  as  far  as  lies  in  their  power^ 
every  source  of  onhappinessj  it  has  been  a  custom 
aeioog  them  from  time  immemorial^  to  destroy 
^'  every  one  that  they  cow'kl  convict  of  so  heinous-a^ 
f rime ;  and  io  fact  there  is  uo  reprieve  from  the 

.'.•■•f  Pto*  J'emjsonlKiformed  iiS  that  jriore  or  lesswlio 
had  beee  charged  with  being  witches,  had  been 
executed  In  ahiiost  every  year  since  she  has  lived 
on  the  Genesee,  Mawy,  on  being  suspected,  made 
their  escape  :  while  others, before  they  were  aware 
of  being  impUcatedj  have  been  apprelieiK!ed  and 
brought  to  trial.  She  says  that  a  Dumber  of  years 
•  agOj  an  Indmn  chased  a  >?c{uaw,  near  Beard's 
JTowe,  and  caw^ht  her 5  hut  oa  the  account  of  her 

"great  st&rength  she  got  away.    The  Indimi^  vexed, 

;  ^.^nd  disappointedj  went  fiDSwe,  and  the  next  day 
reported  that  he  saw  hei"  have  i^re  10  her  mouth-, 

;;^.;lind  that  she  was  a  witch«  Upon  this  she  was  ap- 
prehended and  killed  iotitnedsately.  She  w^b  Fig- 
tree^s  cousin.  Mrs.  Jeffnison  says  she  was  present 
■at  the  ax€cutiofi.    She  also  saw  one  other  killed 

■■^nd  thrown  into  the  riveff« 

.  :'':3'   €oi,  Jeremiah  Smithy  of  Leicester,  near  Beard's 

';  ;':'*l'owBj  saw  an  Indlm  killed  by  his  feve  brotf-jers, 


.;';..:■>?■ 


•■  ■F'l 


:;''•  ■    "' 


^■ 


t.     ''X. 


I!,*, 


hMM.»».,um,.,,^^mAa^'mmi,mmmmm 


mmmmmmmmt 


:V4 


hat 

?st 

ims 

eir 

orti 

roy 

tiie 


'**?■ 


APWaSTDIX. 


175 


who  struck  him  on  the  head  with  their  toma- 
hawks at  one  time*  He  was  charged  with  being  a 
witchy  because  of  his  hmmg  been  fortj  nate  enough, 
when  or<  a  hunting  party,  to  kill  anunik>er  of  deer, 
while  hh  comrades  failed  of  taking  any. 

Col.  Smith  also  saw  asqwawjwho  ha^  be^n  con* 
vicred  of  being  a  witch ;^  killed  by  having  small 
green  whips  bwrnt  till  they  were  red  hot,  but  not 
quite  coaled,  and  thrust  down  her  throat.  Frorrt 
such  trifling  causes  tfiousands  have  2<Jt  their  lives, 
and  notwithstanding  the  means  that  are  used  for 


OF  "tM  MiNNER  OF  FARMING,  AS  "' 
TISEB  BY  THE  INDIAN  WOMEN. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  squaws  have  all  ^e 
labor  of  the  field  to  perform,  and  almost  every 
other  kind  of  hard  service,  which,  in  rivil  society, 
is  performed  by  the  rtien.  In  order  to  expedite 
their  business,  and  at  the  same  tinae  enjoV  each- 
other's  company,  they  all  work  together  in  one 
tleld,  or  at  whatever  job  they  may  have  on  hand. 
In  the  spring  they  choose  an  old  active  squjaw  to 
be  their  driver  and  overseer  when  at  labor,  for  the 
eosuinpj  year™  She  accents  the  honor,  and  they 
cosisider  themselves  bouna  to  obey  her. 
.  When  tRe  time  for  planting  arrives,  and  the  soil 
is  prepared,  the  squaws  are  assembled  in  the  morn 


ing,  and  conducted  into  a  field,  where  each  pian||g| 
one  rowu  They  then  go  into  the  next  field,  anl!^^ 
plant  opce„  across,  aad  so  w  tiU  they  have  gone 


■!■;  •"■,■! '■*,V'*tT  ^.■■■.^. 


;*; 


: ..  u^:> 


176 


APPENDIX. 


z",*-!^ 


•i. 


through  the  tfibe.  If  any, ire  mains  to  be  planted, 
^ey  again  commence  whf3^  they  did  at  first,  (in 
the  same  field,Y  and  so  k^p  on  till  the  whole  is 
^nished^  By  this  rule  they  perform  their  labor  of 
every  kind,  and  ev^ry  jealousy  of  one  having  done 
more  or  less  than  another,  is  eflfectually  avoided. 

Jlach  squaw  cues  her  own  wood ;  but  it  is  all 
brought  to  the  house  under  the  direction  of  the 
overseer^^-each  bringing  one  back  load. 


are 

time 

Hil 

his  n\ 

wort! 


mi: 


OF  THEIR  METHOD  OF  COMPUTING  TIME, 
AND  KeEPJNQ  THEIR  RECORDS. 

This  is  done  by  moons  and  winters:  a  mooi)  is 
a  Utionth,  arul  the  time  from  the  ehd  of  one  winter 
to  that  of  another,  a  year. 

From  sunset  till  sunrise,  ihey  say  that  the  sun  is 
asleep.  In  the  old  of  the  mvoofi,  when  it  does  not 
shine  in  the  night,  they  say  it  is  dead.  They  re- 
joice greatly  at  the  sight  of  the  new  niooo. 
,  ■  In  order  to  commemorate  great  events,  and  pre- 
fs^fve  thee  hronology  of  them,  the  #ar  Chief  in  eacfi 
tribe  keeps  a  war  post.  This  post  is  a  peeled  Jtick 
of  timber,  10  or  12  feet  high,  that  is  erected  in  the 
town.  For  a  campaign  they  make,  or  rather  the 
Chief  makes,  a  perpendicular  red  mark,  about  three 
inches  long  and  half  an  U^h  wide;  on  the  opposite 
side  from  this,  ibf  a  scalp,  they  make  a  red  cross, 
thus,  +;  on  another  side,  for  a  prisoner  taken 

ve,  they  i»ake  a  red  cross  in  this  manner,  ^, 

Ith  a  Ke^4  oi*  dot,  aiid  by  l^acing  such  significant 
li'leoglyphics  in  so  ponspicuous  a  situation,  they 


IMV''- 


kaMnik 


MlLmaimm^ii^ltlM 


m 


•J'K*'. 


ited, 
|,  (in 
►le  is 
6r  of 
Mane 
?d. 
^s  all 

the 


i' 


■ '«i? 


APPENDIX.  ^ 


'■>r'> 


177 


are  enabled  to  ascertain  with  great  certainty  the 
time  and  circumstances  of  past  events. 

Hiokatoo  had  a  war-post,  on  which  was  recorded 
his  military  exploits,  and  other  things  that  he  tho't 
worth  preserving.     .,       ^     ,^  r  , .  ^  r^^, 


'tvi.-' 


t'      V 


'"^.5^^'^ 


■,■;  f» 


'  ^•'  '■■'■•::T 


ANECDOTES. 


■  *iVf 


'S'§: 


HioKAToo  used  to  say  that  when  he  was  a  young 
man,  there  lived  in  the  same  tribe  with  him  an  old 
Indian  warrior,  who  was  a  great  counsellor,  by  the 
name  of  Buck-in-je-hil-lish.  Buckinjehillish  hav- 
i  i^  vith  great  fatigue,  attended  the  council  whea 
it  was  deliberating  upon  war,  declared  that  none 
but  the  ignorant  made  war,  but  that  the  wise  men 
nnd  the  warriors  had  to  do  the  fighting.  This 
speech  exasperated  his  countrymen  to  such  a  de- 
gree that  he  was  apprehended  and  tried  for  being 
a  witch,  on  the  account  of  his  having  lived  to  so 
advanced  an  age ;  and  because  he  could  not  show 
some  reason  why  he  had  not  died  before,  he  was 
sentenced  to  be  tomahawked  by  a  boy  on  the  spot, 
which  was  accordingly  done.  ..    * 

In  the  last  war,  (1814,)  an  Indian  wiho  had  been 
on  fatigue,  called  at  a  commissary's  and  begged 
some  bread.     He  was  sent  for  a  pail  of  water  be- ' 
fore  he  received  it,  and  while  he  was  absent  an 
^officer  told  the  commissary  to  put  a  piece  of  monj 
into  the  bread,  and  observe  the  event.     He  did 
The  Indian  took  the  bread  and  went  off:  but  on 
the jiext  day  hr<ving  ate  his  bread  and  found  the 


'■■:';<  **• 


■i  ^  :>■''^'\ 


^' 

<i 

»;' 

<::  ■ 

.  r.i' 

19 


f 


178 


APPENDIX. 


Sttt 


money,  lie  came  to  the  commissary  and  gave  him   ] 
the  same,  as  the  oiHcer  had  anticipated. 

hiTThE  Beard,  a  celebrated  Indian  Chief,  having 
arrivetf  to  a  very  advanced  age,  died  at  his  town 
on  th#  Genesee  river  about  the  first  of  June,  1806, 
and  was  buried  after  the  manner  of  burying  chiefs. 
In  his  life  time  he  had  been  quite  arbitrary,  and 
had  made  some  enemies  whom  he  hated,  probably, 
and  was  not  loved  by  them.  The  grave,  however, 
deprives  envy  of  its  malignity,  and  revenge  of  its 
keenness.  '.-^"^iJit^Js- -^  ■  ■    ••  •  -^S' 

Little  Beard  had  been  dead  but  a  few  days  when 
the  great  eclipse  of  the  sun  took  place,  on  the  six- 
'teenth  of  June,  which  excited  in  the  Indians  a  great 
degree  of  astonishment;  for  as  they  were  ignorant 
of  astronomy,  they  were  totally  unqualified  to  ac- 
count for  so  extraordinary  a  phenomenon.  The 
crisis  was  alarming,  and  something  effectual  must 
be  done,  without  delay,  to  remove,  if  possible,  the 
cause  of  such  coldness  and  darkness,  which  it  v/as 
expected  would  increase.  They  accordingly  ran 
together  in  the  three  towns  near  the  Genesee  river, 
and  after  a  short  consultation  agreed  that  Little 
Beard^  on  the  account  of  some  old  grudge  whirh 
he  yet  cherished  towards  them,  had  placed  himself 
between  them  and  the  sun,  in  order  that  their  corn 
might  not  grow,  and  so  reduce  them  to  a  state  af 
starvation.  Having  thuf  found  the  cause,  the  s^xt 
thing  was  to  remove  it,  which  could  onlv  be  ^Ht 
the  use  of  powder  and  bail.     Upon  thi^  «««ry 

n  and  rifle  was  loaded,  and  a  ririntr  ctM^>meneed, 
that  continued  without  cessation  tili  th«c  M  fellaw 
leil  his  s§at|  ind  thec^bscurity  was  entleiy  remov* 


'"^W 


-Ml 


APPENDIX. 


179 


ed,  to  the  great  joy  of  the  ingenious  and  fortunatt 
Indians. 

In  the  month  of  February,  1824,  Corn  Plai^ter, 
a  learned  pagan  Chief  at  Tonnewonta,  died  ojf  dg;i^- 
mon  sickness.  He  had  received  a  hbersri  educnitptl. 
and  was  held  in  high  estimation  in  his  town  ana 
tribe,  by  both  parties;  but  the  pagans  more  partic- 
ularly mourned  his  loss  deeply^  and  seemed  entirely  ■ 
unreconciled.  They  imputed  his  death  to  witch- 
craft, and  charged  an  Indian  by  the  name  of 
Prompit,  with  the  crime. 

Mr.  Prompit  is  a  christian  Indian,  of  the  Tusea- 
lora  nation,  who  has  Jived  at  Tonne wonta  a  number 
of  years,  where  he  has  built  a  saw-mill  himself, 
which  l^ie  owns,  and  is  considered  a  decent,  respect- 
able man.  t^ 

About  two  weeks  aftier  the  death  of  Corn  Planter^ 
Mr.  Prompit  happened  in  company  where  th  au- 
thor was  present,  and  immediately  begun  to  con- 
yerse  upon  that  subject.  He  said  that  the  old 
fashioned  Indians  called  him  a  witc|i — believed 
that;  he  had  killed  Corn  Plantei,  and  l^<i  said  tliat 
they  would  kill  him.  But,  said  he,  all  good  people 
know  that  I  am  not  a  witch,  and  that  1  am  ckar  of 
the  charge.  Likely  enough  they  will  kill  Ojc;  but 
if  they  do,  my  hands  are  clean,  my  coescieoce  ■ 
clear,  and  I  shall  go  up  to  God.  1  will  not  ma  nor 
hide  from  them,  and  they  may  kill  me  if  they 
choose  ti>— I  am  innocent.  When  Jesus  Chrnt^^ 
enemies,  said  he,  wanted  to  kill  him,  he  did 
ntn  away  tVom  them,  but  let  them  kill  him ; 
why  should  I  run  away  frow^»y  enenaes? 

jhow  the  atfair  will  termusate    we  are  unaUe  te> 
decide, 


m^ 


■K 


^,->^uj.jaujijjiiipi  I  mmmwmmmmnmim^mm'mmmm^. 


im 


180 


AIPPENDIX. 


DESCRIPTION  OF  GENESEE   RIVER  AND 
ITS  BANKS;  FROM  MOUNT  MORRIS  TO 
)  THE  UPPER  FALLS. 

.  W^&H  Mount  Morrb  the  banks  of  the  Genesee 
ar^fifom  two  to  ft^iir  hundred  feet  in  height,  iyith 
narrow  flats  oii  one  side  of  the  river  or  the  other, 
till  you  arrive  at  the  tract  called  Gardow,  or  Cross 
^ills.  Here  you  come?  to  Mr*.  Jamison's  flats, 
ivhich  are  two  miles  an4  a  quarter  long,  and  from 
«  eighty  to  one  hundred  and  twenty  rods  wide,  lying 
moltly  on  the  west  side  of  the  river. 
,^  Near  the  upper  end  of  these  flats  is  the  Great 
riSlide.  Directly  above  this,  the  banks  (still  retain- 
ing their  before  mentioned  height)  approach  so 
near  each  other  as  to  admit  of  but  thirty  acres  of 
flat  on  one  side^f  the  river  only,  and  above  this 
the  perpendicular  rock  comes  down  to  the  water. 

From  Gardow  you  ascmd  the  river  live  mlle^  to 
the  lower  falls,  which  are  ninety-three  feet  perpen- 
dicular. These  falls  are  twenty  rods  wide,  and 
have  the  greatest  channel  on  the  east  side.  From 
Wolf  cre^  to  these  falls  the  banks  are  covered 
with  elegant  \^Hte  and  Norway  pine. 

Above  the  lower  falls  the  banks  for  about  two 
miles  are  of  perpendicular  rock,  and  retain  their 
height  of  between  two  and  four  hundred  feet. 
Having  travelled  this  distance  you  reach  the  mid- 
dle falls,  which  are  an  uninterrupted  sheet  of  water 
fifteen  rods  wide,  and  one  hundred  and  ten  feet  in 
lerpendicular  height.  This  natural  curiosity  is 
lot  exceeded  by  any  tiling  of  the  kind  in  the 
'western  country,  except  the  cataract  at  Niagara. 

From  the  middle  falls  the  banks  gradually  rise, 
ill  you  ascend  the  river  half  a  mile,  when  you 


itfPENDIX. 


181 


come  to  the  upper  falls,  which  are  somewhat  loll* 
ing,  66  feet,  in  the  shape  of  a  harrpw.  Abo^jthis 
the  banks  are  of  moderate  height.  The  tinftber 
from  the  lower  to  the  upper  falls  is  principall3i|»ine. 
Just  above  the  middle  falls  a  saw-mill  wasdfi^i^d 
this  season  (1823)  by  Messrs.  %iba  Hurd  and  Alva 
Palmer. 


HUNTING  ANECDOTE. 

In  November,  1822,  Capt.  Stephen  Rolnh  and 
Mr.  Alva  Palmer  drove  a  deer  into  Genesee  river, 
a  short  distance  above  the  middle  falls,  where  the 
banks  were  so  steep  and  the  current  so  impetuous, 
that  it  could  not  regain  the  shore,  and  consequent- 
ly was  precipitated  over  the  falls,  one  hundred  and 
ten  feet,  into  the  gulph  below.  The  hunters  ran 
along  the  bank  below  the  falls,  to  watch  tne  fate  of 
the  animal,  expecting  it  would  be  dashed  m  pieces. 
But  to  their  great  astonishment  it  came  up  alive, 
and  by  swimming  across  a  small  eddy,  reached  the 
bank  almost  under  the  falls;  and  as  it  stood  in  that 
situation,  Capt.  Rolph,  who  was  on  the  top  of  the 
bank,  shot  it.  This  being  done,  the  next  thing  to 
be  considered  was,  how  to  get  their  prize.  The 
rock  being  perpendicular,  upwards  of  one  hundred 
feet,  would  not  admit  of  their  climbing  down  to  it, 
and  there  was  no  way,  apparently,  fpr  them  j  get 
at  it,  short  of  going  down  th0  river  yvo  miles,  to 
the  lower  falls,  and  then  by  creeping'between  th^^ 
water  and  the  precipice^  they  might  pivisibly  reacll 
their  game.  This  process  would  be  |oo  tediou^. 
At  length  Mr.  Palmer  proposed  to  ^pt.  Rolph 

Q 


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im 


AFPEM»II. 


and  Mr.  Heman  Merwin,  who  bad  joined  tliem^ 
thatif  they  would  make  a  windlns  and  fasten  it  to 
a  couple  ot  saplings  that  stood  near,  and  then 
pru6|re  some  ropes,  he  would  he  fetdowa  and  get 
the  ifeer.  The  apparatus  i^as  prepared ;  the  rope 
was  tied  round  Pajme^t'*  body ,  and  he  was  let  down. 
On  arriving  at  tiie  ho^tom  he  unloosed  hiiiM»elf, 
fastened  the  rope  round  the  deer,  which  they  drew 
bp,  and  then  threw  dawn  the  rope,  in  which  he 
fastened  himself,  and  was  drawn  up,  without  hav- 
ing sustained  any  injury.  From  the  top  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  rock,  where  he  wallet  down,  was  ex- 
actly one  hundred  and  twenty  feet.  ^ 


'if 


'■'  ".,■■'■-  <  ■, , 


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l'  < 


.,)■::  fk 


CONTENTS. 


Prefagi!:. 

Introduction. 


:h 


FAOS^ 

n 

7 


CHAPTER  I. 

Nativity  of  her  Parents.    Their  removal  to  Araer-i 
ica.    Her  Birth.    Parents  settle  in  Pennsjrlvama. 
Omen  of  her  Captivity.  .        .        *   '  :  >        tt 


\w 


^^■%--':r,,-*'^ '■-,>.  Cl^APTElt- II.';,   ,-v.   V-         ,, 

Her  education.  Captivity.  J^ourney  to  Fort  Pitt. 
Mother^s  Farewell  Address.  Murder  of  her  Family. 
Preparation  of  the  Scalps.  Indian  Precautions; 
Arrival  at  Fort  Pitt,  kc.  .        .        .        .        S8 

'&;jf   "■,    '     >:  ■      -,  -  ,  V  .  -;/■    ■    • 

■■"'■,'''''.  "    ■  "^  j'V    ."  '.  , 

>  CHAPTER    III. 

She  is  given  to  two  Squaws.  Her  Journey  down 
the  Ohio.  Passes  a  Shawnee  town,  where  white 
men  had  just  been  burnt.  Arrives  at  the  Seneca 
town.  Her  Reception.  She  is  Adopted.  CJeremo- 
ny  of  Adoption.  Indian  Custom.  Address^  She 
receives  a  new  name.  Her  Employment.  Retains 
her  own  and  learns  the  Seneca  Language.  Situation 
of  the  Town,  &te.  Indians«o  on  a  Hunting  Tour  to 
.Sciota,  and  tak^  her  with  tnem.  Returns.  She  is 
taken  to  Fort  Pitt,  and  then  hurried  back  by  her 
Indian  Sisters.  Her  hopes  of  Liberty  destroyed. 
Second  Tour  to  Sciota.  Return  to  Wiishto,  Uc, 
Arrival  of  Prisoners,  PriscillaRamsav.  Her  Chain. 
Mary  marries  a  Belaware.  Her  Affection  fbr  him. 
Birth  and  Death  of  her  first  ChUd.  Her  Sickness 
and  Recovery.    Birth  of  Thomas  Jemison.       .       $B 


w 


m 


•^WfUfrwrn'^ 


^im- 


mum 


184 


CONTENTS. 


h 


CHAPTER   IV.  , 

Sh«  Ifeaves  Wiishto  for  Fort  Pitt,  in  company  with 
her  flusbandt  Her  feelings  on  setting  out.  Contrast 
between  the  Labor  of  the  White  and  Indian  Women. 
Deficiency  of  Arts  amongst  the  Indians.  Their  for- 
mer Happiness.  Ban^lul  effects  of  Civilisation, 
and  the  introduction  of  ardent  Spirits  amongst  them, 
Stc.  Journey  up  the  River.  Murder  of  three  Trad- 
ers by  the  Shawnees*  *  Her  Husband  stops  nt  a 
Trading  House.  Wantonness  of  the  Shawnees. 
Moves  up  the  Sandusky.  Meets  her  Brother  from 
Genishau.  Her  Husband  goes  to  Wiishto,  and  she 
sets  out  for  Genishau  in  company  with  her  Brothers. 
They  arrive  at  Sandusky.  Occurrences  at  that 
place.  Her  Journey  to  Genishau,  and  Reception  by 
'her  Mother  and  Friends.  .        .        .        y       46 


if 


I'i: ' 


I 


CHAPTER   r.         ; 

Indians  march  to  Niagara  to  fight  the  British. 
Return  with  two  Prisoners,  fcc.  Sacrifice  them  at 
Fall  Brook.  Her  Indian  Motlier's  Address  to  her 
Daughter.  Death  of  her  Husband.  Bounty  offered 
for  the  Prisoners  taken  in  the  last  War,  John  Van 
Sice  attempts  to  tak6  her  to  procure  her  Ransom. 
Her  Escape.  Edict  of  the  Chiefs.  Old  King  of 
the  tribe  determines  to  have  her  given  up.  Her 
brother  threatens  her  Life.  Her;  narrow  Escape. 
The  old  King  goes  oflT.  Her  brother  is  informed  of 
the  place  of  her  concealment,  and  conducts  her 
home.  Marriage  to  her  second  Husband.  Names 
of  her  Children.      ...        .        .        .        54 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Peace  amongst  the  Indians.    Celebrations.    Wor-p 
ship.    Exercises.    Business  of  the  Tribes.    Former 
Happiness  of  the  Indians  in  time  of  peacej  extolled. 
Their  Morals;  Fidelity;  Honesiy;  Chastity;  Tem-  . 
perance.    Indians  called  to  GermsMnt  Flats.    Treaty 


i 


HMttMHil 


n^ 


T' 


wn\' 


CONTENTS. 


X^ 


46 


54 


i 


with  Americans.  Tbej  are  sent  for  by  the  British 
Commissioners,  and  ^  to  Oswego.  Promises  made 
by  those  Commissioo^s.  Greatness  of  the  King  of 
England.  Reward  {liat  was  paid  them  for  Joinios 
the  Britishi  They  ilmke  a  Treaty.  Bounty  offered 
for  ^alps.  R«turn  richly  dressed  and  equipped. 
In  1776^  they  kill  a  man  at  Cautega,  to  provoke  the 
An^erioani/  Prisoners  taken  at  feherry  Valley, 
brought  to  Beard's  Town }  RadAsmed,  &^c.  Battle 
at  I%rt  Stanwix.  Indians  su&r  a  great  Loss. — 
Mourning  at  Beard's  Town.  Mrs.  Jemison's  care 
of,  and  services  rendered,  to  Butler  and  Brandt.        6!^ 

CHAPTEE  VII. 

Gen.  Sullivan  with  a  large  Army  arrives  at  Can- 
andaigua.  Indians'  Troubles.  Determine  to  stop 
their  March.  Skirmish  at  Connissius  Lake.  Cir- 
cumstances attending  the  Execution  of  an  Oneida 
Warrior.  Escape  of  an  Indian  Prisoner.  Lieut. 
Boyd  and  another  man  taken  Prisoners.  Cruelty 
of  Boyd's  Execution.  Indians  retreat  to  the  Woods. 
Sullivan  cotiies  on. to  Genesee  Flats  and  destroys 
the  Property  of  the  Indians.  Returns.  Indians 
Return.  Mrs^JTemison  goes  to  Gardow.  Her  Em- 
ployment there.  Attention  of  an  old  Negro  to  her 
Safety,  fcc.  Severe  Winter.  Sufferings  of  the 
Indians.  Destruction  of  Game.  Indians' Expedi- 
tion to  the  Mohawk.  Capture  old  John  O'Bail,  he. 
Other  Prisoners  taken,  &&C.      .        *        *        .69 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Life  of  Ebenezer  Allen,  a  Tory.  He  comes  to 
Gardow.  Hh  :  <» 'macy  with  a  Nanticoke  Squaw. 
She  gives  him  a  Cap.  Her  Husband's  Jealousy. 
Cruelty  to  his  Wi/9w  Hiokatoo's  Mandate.  Allen 
supports  her.  Her  Husband  is  received  into  favor, 
Allen  LsAmrs.  PurchasesGoods.  Stops  the  Indian 
War.    Hi«  Troubles  with  the  Indians.    Marries  a 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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CONTENTS. 


Istafceflaf 


•<, 


ed. 

nesee  with  a 

g.    Moves  ta 

tc^er.   Jlrowns 

Ktf»aliold 


Squaw.    Is  takeA  and  canled  to  ^ 

Goes  to  Philadelphia.    Returns^' 

Store  of  Goods,  &lc.    Goes  to 

Allen's  Cireek.    BuildsMillsatj 

a  Dutchman.     Marries  a  White' 

Man.     Gets  a  Concubine.    Moves  to  Mount  Hikr  is. 

Marries  a  third  V^e,  and  gets  another  Coneiibine. 

Receives  a  tract  ol  Land.     Sends  his  Children  to 

other  States,  &&c.    Dii^bses  of  his  Land.    Moves  to 

Grand  River,  wheVe  he  Dies.    His  Cruelties.      «;    ^§ 


'* 


CHAPTER   IX. 


Mrs.  Jemison  has  liberty  to  go  to  her  Friends. 
Chooses  to  stay.  Her  Reasons,  &lc.  Her  Indian 
brother  makes  provision  for  her  settlement.  He  goes 
to  Grand  River,  and  dies.  Her  love  for  him,  &£C. 
She  is  presented  with  the  Gardow  Reservation, 
Description  of  the  Soil,  kc.  of  hier  Flats.  Indian 
notions  of  the  ancient  Inhabitants  of  this  country. 


9£ 


CHAPTER  X. 

Happy  situation  of  her  Family.  Disagreement 
between  her  sons  Thomas  and  John.  Her  Advice 
to  them,  &&C.  John  kills  Thomas.  Her  Affliction. 
Council.  Decision  of  the  Chiefs,  he.  Life  of 
Thomas.  His  Wives,  Children,  ^e.  Cause  of  his 
De&th,  he,      .        .        .        .  '      .        .        .        96 


CHAPTER   Xt. 

Death  of  Hiokatoo.  Biography.  His  Birth;  Ed- 
ucation. Gqes  against  the  Uherokees,  kc.  Bloody 
Battle,  he.  His  success  and  cruelties  in  the  Firench 
War.  Battle  at  Fort  Freeland.  Capts.  Do^igherty 
and  Boon  killed.  His  Cruelties  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Cherry  Valley,  &ic.  Indians  remove  their  general 
Encampment.  In  178£,  C61.  Crawford  is  sent  to 
destroy  them,  he.  Is  met  by  a  Traitor.  Battle. 
Crawford's  men  surprized.     Irregular  Retreat.— 


\v,t»jj' 


''^'iS' 


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CONTENTS; 


187 


.-■^H 


x 


Crawford  and  Doct-Night  taken.    Council.   Craw- 
ford is  Condemned  91^  Burnt.    Aggravating  cir- 
;^i5umstances.    NigMii  sentenced  to  be  Burnt.    Is 
^iPainted  by  Hiokatdci*    I9  CDnductflfd  off,  &c.    His 
fortunate  Escape.    Hlokatoo,  in  the  French  War, 
takes  Col.  CantomviF^is  Sentence.    I3  bound  on  a 
wild  Colt,  that  r^t  loose  two  days,    tletunis  Alive. 
'Is  made  to  run  the  Gauntlet.    Gets  knocked  down, 
&c.    Is  Redeemed   and  sent  home.    Hiokatoo's 
Enmity  to  the  Cherokees,  Ud^     His  Height — 
Strength — Speed,  Sic.  .        .        . 


103 


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1 


4 


«   1*         ^i;.  CHAPTER  XII. 

,   Her  TrouMes  renewed.    John's  Jealousy  towards 
his  brother  Jesse.     Circumstances  attending  the 
.  Murder  of  Jesse  Jemison.     Her  Grief.    His  Fu- 
jneral — Age — 'Filial  Kindness,  &&c.         .         .         118 


ilt^ 


■■■m 


1  •■'4:y.,, 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Mrs.  Jemison  is  informed  tliat  she  has  a  Cousin^ 


in  the  Neighborhood,  by  the  name  of  George  Jemi 
son.     His  Poverty.     Her  Kindness.     His  Ingrati- 
tude.   Her  Trouble  from  Land  Speculation.    Her 


Cousin  moves  off. 


'^^ 


122 


4 


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^ 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Another  Family  Affliction.    Her  son  John's  Oc- 
cupation.    He  goes  t0  Buffalo — Returns.     Great 
Slide  by  him  considered  Ominous.    Trouble,  &c. 
f  He  goes  to  Squawky  Hill— Quarrels — Is  murdered 
I'by  two  Indians.     His  Funeral— rMourners,  &tc. 
;  His  disposition.    Ominous  Dream.     Black  Chief's 
.Advice,  fcc.    Hia  Widows  and  Family.    His  Age. 
^^is  Murderers  flee.    Her  Advice  to  them.    They 
'^^net  out  to  leave  their  Country.     Their  Uncle's 
Speech  to  them  on  parting.    They  return.    Jack 
proposes  to  Doctor  to  kill  each  other.    Doctor's 
Speech  in  reply.    Jack's  Suicide.    Doctor's  Death.  126 


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CRAPTEB  XT. 


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Micah  Brooks,  Esq.  volunteers  to  get  the  Titli-  ^  **' 
to  her  Land  confirmed  to  herself.  She  is  Natur- 
alized. Great  C&ncil  of  Chiefs,  &dc.  in  Sept. 
1 823.  She  disposes  of  her  Reservation.  Reserves 
a  Tract  2  miles  long,  and  1  miHe  wide,  &tc.  The 
Consideration  how  paid,  &lc.       ^ .        ;        .        134 

Conclusioti.    j^evi«#  of  her  Life.    Reflections 
on  the  loss  of  Liberty.     Care  she  took  to  preserve     ^^ , 
her  Health.     IndiansVabstem«ousness  in  Drinking, 
after  the  French  War.    Care  of  their  Lives,  Stc, 
General   use  of  Spirits.    Her  natural   Strength! 
Purchase  of  her  first  Cow.    Means  by  which  she 
has  been  supplied  with  Food.     Suspicions  of  her 
having  been  a  Witch.     Her  Constancy.     Number  ,  >; 
pf  Children.     Number  Living.    Their  Residence* 
^^■Closing  Reflection.  .^^^^,^^;.,^,,^  .     '    189 

•A  ,     -    .     i*it,  :    .■      r     , 


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C0JVTEJVT5  OF  THE  APPEJWIX. 


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An  account  of  the  destruction  of  a  part  of  the 
British  Army,  by  the  Indians,  at  a  place  called  the   t^mc   C 
Devil's  Hole,  on  the  Niagara  River,  in  the  year  1 763.  145 

A  particular  Account  of  Gen.  Sulhvan's  Expe-    v:> . 
dition  against  the  Indians,  in.the  >vestern  part  of  the 
State  of  New- York,  in  1779.  ...        149 

Tradition  of  the  Origin  of  the  Seneca  Nation. 
Their  Preservation  from  utter  Extinction.    The  |i  T:^  f 
Means  by  which  the  People  who  preceded  the  % 
Senecas,  were  Destroyed — and  the  Cause  of  the 
different  Indian  Languages.  i  4$  .      '. 


'f'^J 


157 1-:  ^, 


^';>^/ ;>:pf  their Religiori— Feasts— and  gr^at  Sacrifice.  159  ?^' 

i':X'V|Of  their  Dances.        .    '    ..    .    .''.     '   -j:- '.rv^p?.;;:4; 

•l,v;t,,i, .,Of  their  gbvernment.      mi^-^^m^-M^^-^ •'   #t^-y 


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134 


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CONTE 


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The  Extent  and  Number  erf  the  Six  Nations. 
Of  their  Courtships,  ice*    .        .        . 
Of  Family  Govemai^    . 


170 

in 


J^': 


/^■-'<- 


r»    .'a.      . 


1^ 


Of  their  Funerals.  .  , 

Of  their  Creduft^.    .        .    ,    .        .        . 

Of  the  Manner  of  Inarming,  i^ractised  by  the 
Indian  Women,     *^f      .        .      "^r       .  175 

Of  their  MediM^  of  Ccmj^ting  %me,  and 
Keeping  their  Records.  .        .        .        .        176 

Anecdotes.         .        ,        .        .      >        ,        177 

Description  of  Genesee  River  and  ItsBaoks^  from 
3ftkunt  Morris  to  the  Upper  Falls.  .%  ;^        180 

Hqnting  Anecdote.     •   v  .^^^^    <  .        ^       ^       181 


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